























































































- 








































NEARER AND DEARER. 


JUST PUBLISHED, 

The Adventures of Verdant Green, 

«* A College joke to cure the dumps.” 

A CLEVER AND AMUSING STORY OF COLLEGE LIFE IN AN ENGLISH 
UNIVERSITY; CHARMINGLY EMBELLISHED W-ITHOVER 
TWO HUNDRED COMIC ILLUSTRATIONS ON 
WOOD. 

Elegant 12mo. cloth bound volume, price $1,50; sent free by 
mail on receipt of price by 

CARL.ETON, Publisher, . 

New York. 


NEARER AND DEARER 


' 'U 1 


% SMtURt. 



■^V } 

“Has she a Brother? 

Has she a nearer one 
Still, and a dearer one 
Yet than all other?” 

— Hood. 


By CUTHBERT BEDE, B. A., 

“ Author of Verdant Green.” 

WITH FORTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR. 



NEW YORK: 

CARLETON, PUBLISHER , 413 BROADWAY 
LONDON : RICHARD BENTLEY. 

M DCCC LXIV. 
















































W 










c 








\fc. 
















I ■ 


























V 









WITH MUCH AFFECTION, 


I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE TALE 


TO MY UNCLE, 


m. 


WHO HAS SHEWN MUCH INTEREST 


IN THIS NOVELETTE, 

BUT FAR MORE IN 


ITS AUTHOR. 





LIST OP PULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 


I. 

THE BILLIARD ROOM. To face page 

20 

II. 

BILLIARDS BY GAS-LIGHT. . 

<( 

38 

III. 

“ SUCH A SINGULAR FEELING.” 

u 

62 

IV. 

THE SUDDEN RECOGNITION. . 

a 

84 

V. 

RETROSPECTION. 

u 

102 

VI. 

THE MUSIC-LESSON. 

u 

124 

VII. 

“NOW WE ARE QUITE ALONE.” 

u 

140 

VIII. 

THE CONFESSION. 

u 

162 

IX. 

THE PLOT DISCOVERED. 

u 

184 

X. 

A PICTURESQUE POSITION. 

u 

202 
























































■- 







\ 




' 






























* • 














. 






























































CONTENTS 




CHAPTER I. 

*AN INTERIOR AT SOMERFORD HALL 15 

CHAPTER n. 

THE PLATERS 31 

CHAPTER HI. 

MINERVA HOUSE. 43 

« 

CHAPTER IV. 

A WAGER 57 

CHAPTER V. 

LOVE IN LIVERT. . . . * 67 

CHAPTER VI. 


LOVE, THE LEVELLER. 


79 


X 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VII. 

A VISITOR AT MINERVA HOUSE. 89 

CHAPTER VHI. 

THE GREAT MORAL ENGINE. ..*... 99 


N 

CHAPTER IX. 

MISS SMITH. . 

Ill 

CHAPTER X. 

RETROSPECTIONS. 

. • 121 


CHAPTER XI. 


CHAMPAGNE AND REAL PLEASURE. . . . . 133 


MODEL COPIES. 

CHAPTER XH. 

. . 147 

• 

CHAPTER XIII. 


MURDER WILL OUT. .159 


^ ' 

if ■ ■■ 

CHAPTER XIV. 

LOVE FOR LOVE. 

. . . . . . . . 169 


CHAPTER XV. 


SIMON PURE, 


179 


f 


CONTENTS, XI 

CHAPTER XVI. 

BROTHER AND SISTER 193 

CHAPTER XVII. 

NEARER AND DEARER 207 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 219 


r 



























































J 








. 
































































































NEARER AND DEARER. 


CHAPTER I. 

AN INTERIOR AT SOMERFORD HALL. 

OW is the game ? 99 

11 Twenty spot ; 
ten striker.” 

“ Then here’s for 
a winning hazard to 
improve my for- 
tunes ! ” But he 
only scored a can- 
non. 

The speakers were 
two young men who 
were playing billiards in the pleasant billiard-room 
of Somerford Hall. You are introduced to most 
respectable people, my gentle reader ! for the -first 
speaker is a baronet, and the second is a brother of 




16 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


a lord ; the one is Sir Charles Chatterton 3 the other 
is the Honorable Frederick Arlington. 

Do you wish to learn the pedigrees and connec- 
tions of these gentlemen? If so, and you have a 
curiosity for such genealogical matters, you may set 
it at rest by referring to those fat, red-covered 
books, whose illustrations are coats-of-arms, and. 
which, by very wicked and satirical folks, have been 
called “ The Englishmans Bible.” For I think 
that we need not here trouble ourselves with these 
Romantic statistics of family pride ; nor, indeed, do 
I care to show you how the ancestors of my hero — 
Sir Charles Chatterton, whom you will have the 
goodness to consider a hero from henceforth — were 
descended from the Normans, and made it a boast 
that they had come in with the Conqueror. And 
this for two reasons. In the first place, I fancy 
that such dry statements would alarm, or, at any 
rate, weary you, and thus prevent your crossing the 
threshold of this narrative, in which, I promise you, 
a most delectable banquet has been prepared. In 
the second place, we have become such a matter-of- 
fact nation, that some people positively disbelieve in 
that nobility which is presumed to have come in 
with the Conqueror, and are so parcel-blind, that they 


Chapter $. 

Sir C. Coldstream “ My dear Leech, you began life late , 
you are a young fellow — forty-five — and have the world yet be- 
fore you. I started at thirteen, lived quick, and exhausted the 
whole round of pleasure before I was thirty. I’ve tried every 
thing, heard everything, done everything, know everything, and 
here I am, a man at thirty-three, literally used up — completely 
blaze .” — Used Up. 

“ As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie, 

This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. 

Thackeray’s Ballads. 


\ 


» 




NEARER AND DEARER. 


17 


cannot see those glorious rays of honor which the 
Norman star sheds upon one’s lineage ; or under- 
stand how the purity of our blood is to be enhanced 
by a vagabond Norman drover, who, eight centuries* 
ago, for the want of something better to do, enlisted 
under the banner of William the Bastard. For 
aught such disbelievers care, questionable ancestors 
like these might be Burke d forthwith, and obliterated 
from the pages of existence. 

For my own part, I confess that I am not in- 
different to the just claims of a good lineage. It is 
not for us to smile at the claims of long descent, 
and to talk of kind hearts being more than coronets, 
and simple faith than Norman blood. Let us leave 
these melo-dramatic Joseph- Surface platitudes to 
Mr. Tennyson’s grand old gardener and his wife. 
For “we know that, though the greatest pleasure 
of all is to act like a gentleman, it is a pleasure, 
nay, a merit, to be one : to come of an old stock, to 
have an honorable pedigree, to be able to say that 
centuries back our fathers had gentle blood, and to 
us transmitted the same.” * 

Without, therefore, troubling ourselvds at all 
concerning the past history of our hero’ s family, we 

* Thackeray’s “ Second Funeral of Napoleon,” p. 64. 


18 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


will content ourselves by taking him as we find him 
at the present ; and his only relative to whom we 
need now allude, is his maternal aunt, Lady Linton, 
who was a lady in her own right, and the one-year 
widow of Sir Clifford Linton, who had left her the 
mistress of Somerford Hall, and the mother of three 
young children. To this lady, the two gentlemen 
were now on a visit, the nephew having brought his 
friend to help him to wile away a few days with a 
little hunting and shooting. 

They appeared now to be varying their amuse- 
ments with a game at billiards, for which occupation 
they had stripped to their shirt-sleeves. Indeed, 
Sir Charles had bared his right arm to his shoulder, 
having acquired a habit of making a vain display of 
his biceps muscle, which had been brought to a 
great state of perfection during that collegiate 
period of his career when he had been a favourite 
pupil of Hammer Lane, and had assisted to place 
the Christ Church boat at the head of the river. 
But, even without his biceps, Sir Charles was as fine 
a specimen of a vigorous young Englishman of six- 
and-twenty as you might expect to meet with on a 
long summer’s day; and his blue eyes, and light 
hair and moustache, gave him that true Saxon 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


19 


appearance which seems so much to combine manli- 
ness with gentleness. Not so his companion, who 
might have been an Italian for his blue-black locks, 
and glowing eyes, and general “ warmth of color- 
ing,” as artists term it; but who, nevertheless, 
seemed to set off the other’s Saxon beauties, as a foil 
does a bright gem, or as the dark marble back- 
ground throws into startling relief the white purity 
of Cbantrey’s “ Sleeping Children.” 

There was rather too much of a listless air about 
Sir Charles to satisfy critically-observant people. 
He seemed to be more blase than a young man 
with life and energy ought ever to be. It was not 
the listlessness of ill-health; for, whatever it was 
that was wrong with him, he was at any rate sound 
in body, and independent of the doctor. He was 
not at all deficient in sense ; and his reasoning 
faculties told him that, to him, as to every one else, 
a part in a world of labor had been allotted ; and 
that as he spent the hours in his working day of 
life, so would be his reward in the evening of 
existence. And yet, despite this knowledge that he 
had a duty assigned to him, and a work to do, his 
hands (morally speaking) hung listlessly at his side, 
and he went about through life basking in the sun- 


20 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


shine, rather than troubling himself to toil in the 
burden and heat of the day. Indeed, there seemed 
to be no energy about him. Perhaps he may have 
roused up a little in the hunting-field ; but, at any 
rate, here, over the billiard- table, he appeared to be 
as weary and disgusted with everything as is the 
Stranger in Kotzebue’s play. 

He himself frankly owned to this feeling. Once, 
when he had been taxed with it, he answered that 
he had tried everything, and found the hollowness 
of it. One would have thought, to have heard him, 
that he was the Preacher, proclaiming the vanity of 
all things under the sun. But he had not tried all. 
When he said that he had done so, he made a 
mental reservation. He had never tried the life and 
soul of all — love ! He had never since his boyhood 
sought to win another’s heart, or had felt the desire 
to do so. He had flirted, of course — at least, he 
said ‘ of course * — with hundreds ; and had shown 
his skill in those pretty passages of arms, and 
tournaments of small talk, flashing his weapon with 
all the skill of a practised fencer, continually 
striking, but never wounding. In fact, where was 
the need to wound? Better not to do so. The 
hearts he fenced at were only worn outside — sham 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


21 


ones at the best; like the leathern hearts pinned 
upon the fencer’s garments. You might thrust 
against them, and hit them times out of number ; 
but you made no sensible impression upon the 
wearers. It was only practice to them, and they 
were used to it. You certainly appeared to touch 
their heart ; hut they gave you a society smile, and 
then resumed their game with yourself, or any one 
else who chose to take up the flirting foils with 
them; and then — why, then everything was da capo. 
So, in this kind of flirting, Sir Charles Chatterton 
was an adept ; but love — a true, honest, masterful 
love — he had never yet tried. Because, as I ima- 
gine, he had not yet had the opportunity. 

Here he was, then, in the Slough of Despond, 
with Doubting Castle for the only stronghold in 
view. £ 4 That herb called heartsease” had not yet 
been stuck in his button-hole. He was tossed about 
by trifles, and driven rudderless upon the sea of 
life ; and chiefly for the lack of the little god' of 
love to seize upon the helm, and steer him into the 
sweet waters of a right course. 

He was now playing billiards m a savage, care- 
less way — missing and making 11 flukes,” and forcing 
his antagonist to come off the conqueror. It was a 


22 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


good table, and a well-appointed room ; for the late 
Sir Clifford Linton had been, in his time, a billiard 
enthusiast. True, the room was not lighted from 
above ; but the side light, for all that, was very 
good and ample. There were two windows on the 
one side of the room ; the first in a half-glass 
door, the other in a large bay that faced to the 
south, and admitted all the daylight that was 
required. For night-work, two triple clusters of 
lamps were stretched above the table, and were 
provided with green shades, as though they 
suffered from weak eyes. The walls of the room 
were literally covered with sporting and hunting 
pictures, and engravings after Landseer, a few of 
which were surmounted with antlers, and foxes’ 
masks. Within the bay-window were hung the 
framed rules of the game, with scoring-boards for 
pool ; and the greater part of the area of the bay 
was occupied by a long seat, made something like a 
garden-seat, but provided with a crimson velvet 
cushion, and raised high enough to necessitate its 
having a step, and to enable a sitter to overlook the 
billiard-table. At the back of this seat was a long 
counting-board, which also did duty as a small 
armory for a range of cues. 



The Billiard Room . — ( See page 22 ) 


mnu»i 


























NEARER AND DEARER. 


23 


The players were smoking; and, they might 
smoke there as much as they pleased, without the 
fumes of their cigars proving of any annoyance to 
the ladies by being wafted into the living-rooms of 
Somerford Hall ; for, the billiard-room was in a re- 
mote part of the house, where the servants’ offices 
were placed, and it was approached by a private 
passage, shut off from the common hall by folding 
doors. In every respect, therefore, it was the most 
convenient room in the house to be dedicated to 
Smoke — Smoke, the idol who is worshipped by 
countless millions, who can soothe the fevered feel- 
ihgs of his worshippers, ease their pains, charm their 
senses, develop their imaginations, assist their 
reflective powers, stay their strifes, and be to them 
both food and friend. 

Oh ! the cigars and pipes that had been smoked 
in that room ! Oh ! the scented clouds that had per- 
vaded that chamber, floating like fog-wreaths around 
a mountain peak, and filling Smoke’s temple with 
the incense that he loved. The hair of an anti- 
nicotian would bristle with horror at the mere 
statistics thereof ! nevertheless, the revenue of the 
kingdom had been enlarged thereby, trade had 
been encouraged, good temper preserved, ennui 


24 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


evaded, bad words (possibly) avoided, lips pleasantly 
occupied with the weed, and amiability disseminated 
with its smoke. “ Tobacco,” saith old Burton, burst- 
ing into rhapsodies, “ divine, rare, super-excellent 
tobacco, it goes far beyond all panacea, potable 
gold, and philosopher’s stone.’ * And it does — to 
those who enjoy it as much as did Sir Charles 
Chatterton, and the Honorable Frederick Arling- 
ton. 

Not at all an unpleasant thing would you have 
found it, to lounge away an hour in this same 
billiard-room, especially if it was the sweet summer- 
time, when you could stand at the half-glass door 
that opened on to a sweep of velvet sward, and 
there, mingle the pungent perfume of your cigar 
with the more ethereal scents of the flowers, that 
dappled the green grass like glittering fragments of 
rainbows. Before you, the lawn, here and there 
broken up into flower-knots, swept down with a 
gentle descent, until it sank beneath the surface of 
an ornamental lake, in the midst of which, a small 
island formed “ the island home ” of the swans, and 
the rest of the water-fowl. To the right hand — • 
where were the fruit gardens behind a screen of 


* “ Anatomy of Melancholy.” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


25 


laurels — a walk of bright golden gravel meandered 
through the green lawn, passing round two wide- 
stretching cedars, and then dived through a belt of 
shrubbery, and emerged on a rustic wooden bridge. 
The stream that was crossed by this pretty bridge, 
flowed through the lake, and then, leaving the 
domains of Art, betook itself to the regions of 
Nature, and exchanged park and gardens, for 
Cuyp-like meadows, where the cud-chewing cows 
waded into its waters, or grouped themselves upon 
its butter-cup banks, in all the radiant glow of the 
summer evening. A little way above this bridge, 
which was half hidden beneath the droop of weeping 
willows, the stream widened into the lake, round the 
further side of which went the golden gravel walk 
backed by a dense mass of shrubs, which were not, 
however, kept too high to exclude the distant view 
of a rich, hilly landscape. 

But, on the particular day on which Sir Charles 
and his friend found themselves within the Somer- 
ford billiard-room, the view from its bay-window 
was anything but a summer prospect : its half-glass 
door was carefully closed to shut out the wintry 
wind, and a comfortable fire was blazing within its 
grate. There was a deep snow upon the ground ; 

2 


26 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


and golden gravel walks, and green velvet lawn, 
and rainbow fragments of flowers, were now reduced 
to a white uniformity. On this white work of 
Nature, bold robins, and starveling sparrows, traced 
out designs for petticoat borders, and other achieve- 
ments of the broderie Anglaise school. The hares 
and rabbits were carefully wired out from these 
domains sacred to Flora and Pomona ; but, oc- 
casionally, a soft-coated fellow con- 
trived to steal in, and, sitting there 
upon the lawn, in all the comfort 
of his fur jacket, would placidly 
w T ash his face and comb out his 
whiskers, and then, with a twitch 
of his white scut, scamper over 
the snow, and leave his tracks to 
indicate where might be found the latest edition of 
the Vestiges of Creation. The snow even covered 
up the lake ! for, the water was frozen over — at 
least, almost as far as the little rustic bridge, where 
the stream began to exercise its own power, and 
refused to be invested with an icy breast-plate ; — 
and the swans, and Canadian geese were floundering 
upon the ice, and looking almost as helpless a 3 
Mr. Winkle did, when his boast of skating was put 
to the proof. 



NEARER AND DEARER. 


27 


The leaden color of the sky seemed to presage a 
further fall of snow ; and, the presage was speedily 
fulfilled. First, a feathery flake or two drifted 
slowly down ; and then, the white and crystalline 
particles became so numerous and dense, that the 
sky was filled with them, and the distant landscape 
obscured. The billiard-room was also obscured ; 
and grew so dark, that the players were brought to 
a stand-still. 

“ Holed again ! ” cried Sir Charles, as he made a 
stroke at his adversary’s ball, — missed it, — and saw 
his own ball plunge into a corner pocket. 

“ Which is three to the favor of spot, and, con- 
sequently, the game ! ” observed Mr. Arlington. 


















» 







/ 
































/ 





* 






I 











/ 






\ 






®!japtfr ff . 

“ Let us to billiards ; 

Come, Charmian ! ” — 

Antony and Cleopatra , Act II. Sc. 4. 

“ I know of only two instruments the use of which brings all 
the muscles into play, and they are the spade and the billiard- 
cue.” — Billiards , by Captain Cbawley. 


V 





I 



See page 34 . 












CHAPTER II. 


THE PLAYERS: 


E must either give 
this up,” said Sir 
Charles, “ or light 
the lamps ; for, I 
can’t make out the 
red from the spot. 
Hot that it much 
matters what one 
does on such a 
wretchedly depressing day. In bad weather, one 
thing bores one quite as much as another.” 

“ Honsense, old fellow ! ” said Mr. Arlington, as 
he vigorously poked the fire, and stirring it up to a 
ruddy glow, made the room look lighter and more 
cheerful, “ don’t foster the blues in that way ; they 
come readily enough of their own accord, without 



32 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


being so persistently invited. At any rate, billiards 
is better than brooding ; so, let us have another 
game, and take your revenge.” 

11 As you wish ; especially as I am not so inhospi- 
table as to desire to make you a sharer in my idea 
that everything wearies and worries, more than it 
amuses.” 

“ Come ! ” said the other, “ I am not to be made 
a convert to a bad faith ; I will not allow you to 
enlist me in your blues. Mine is a healthier creed 
than yours, and believes in billiards rather than 
blues — in an amusing game of skill that provides 
salutary exercise both for the mind and the body, 
and not in depressed fancies that only engender 
listless idleness and moroseness, to say nothing of 
dyspepsia. So, light another weed, and let us string 
the balls for a fresh game.” 

Sir Charles did as he was advised ; and, rolling 
up his shirt sleeve, again bared his biceps muscle. 
The contemplation of this cherished memorial of the 
days of his vigor, invariably produced a calm feel* 
ing of satisfaction, and a placidity of temper that for 
a time routed the blues, and, in their place, rein- 
stated happy memories of boating prowess and un- 
dergraduate renown, in days when, as Sir Charles 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


33 


remembered, life was happy and joyous, because it 
had an object in view, and a work to be done. For 
the last year or two, his life had been an aimless 
one — even such a one as good Parson Adams would 
have condemned, for, instead of its being a “ course 
of life,” it was a “course of doing nothing; ”* and 
a biceps muscle in a state of perfection is not the 
offspring of such a do-nothing period. That of Sir 
Charles belonged to a former era, and he looked 
upon it — much as Egypt would look upon her pyra- 
mids — as the memorial of his former greatness and 
strength. 

“ Oh ! for the lusty rower. 

With his good stout arm so strong ! ” 

he exclaimed, as he grasped the cue ; “I wish I 
could live the old boating days over again. Then 
there was something to stir one’s blood up ! I 
never can get to feel now, like I used to then.” 

“ Because you don’t set the right way to work,” 
rejoined Mr. Arlington. “ Where there isn’t a will, 
there isn’t a way.” 

* “ Well, sir, in this course of life I continued two years.” 
“ What course of life?” interrupted Adams; “I do not remem- 
ber jou have mentioned any.” “ Your remark is just,” replied 
the gentleman; “ I should rather have said, in this course of do- 
ing nothing .” — Joseph Andrews. 


34 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ When the winter comes, for example,” pursued 
Sir Charles, “ if it was not that one’s forced, in a 
measure, to show one’s self in the field and at balls, 
and so on, I often think that I should like to be a 
dormouse, so that I might sleep through dull days 
like this, when one has got nothing to do, and all 
the day to do it in.” 

“ But, with the dormouse, it’s the nature of the 
beast/’ said Mr. Arlington. “ A decent member of 
society mustn’t curl his tail round him and drop off 
to torpidity, even though his acorns and nuts have 
been stored up by his own exertions ; which is not 
the case with your acorns and nuts, my friend.” 
And Mr. Arlington made a canon, and puffed at 
his cigar. 

“ Philosophy with you, appears to come with 
smoke ; I trust it does not end there,” laughed Sir 
Charles. “ But, look at the snow ! it falls thicker 
and faster than ever. This is what my old tutor 
would have called “ acris scoeva hyems,” and no 
mistake. ” 

“ Who was your tutor, by the way? ” 

“ A parson. His name was Smith. ’ 

“ Smith ! As the man says in the farce — ‘ Smith ! 
now, I’m almost confident I’ve heard that name be- 
fore. ’ ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


35 


“ He was a very clever man, and a very good one 
too,” said Sir Charles ; “ my father gave him the liv- 
ing at our place in Blankshire. He caught a fever 
there and died, just about the time when I went up 
to Christchurch. There were two children and the 
widow ; of course, they were left rather badly off, 
but my father provided for them. The youngsters 
were a boy and a girl ; I remember them very well. 
The boy was about my own age, and used to do my 
verses and teach -me how to pull an oar ; for which I 
shall ever remember him with gratitude.” (Here Sir 
Charles cast an admiring glance at the splendid de- 
velopment of his biceps.) “ The governor got him a 
commission, and made him food for powder. I 
think it was in India where his powder-banquet was 
prepared ; but I lost sight of him long ago.” 

“And of the young lady ? ” 

“ Yes, notwithstanding the fact, that I was at one 
time, over head and ears in love with her. How- 
ever, as she was of the tender though captivating age 
of fifteen, I did not break my heart when we were 
called upon to separate. For aught I know, I may 
have contemplated the propriety of making her a 
parting present of a wax doll that could open its eyes 
and mouth, and ejaculate ‘mamma, papa.’ Very 


36 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


probably she has live wax dolls of her own by this 
time, and, if they are like mamma, they are like one 
who was an unusually pretty and charming girl, and 
for whom I really feel a deeper and truer love than 
I have ever yet entertained for any one, or, I am 
afraid, ever can entertain.” He said this with far 
deeper feeling in his heart than he would allow to 
appear upon his lips ; and, perhaps, it was not alto- 
gether without some reference to the subject of their 
conversation that he nervously trifled with a little 
cornelian heart that hung from the breguet chain of 
his watch. 

“Why so?” asked Mr. Arlington. “ Because a 
wax doll would now be an inappropriate gage 
cC amour? or because there be none of beauty’s 
daughters with a magic like the little girl of 
fifteen ?” 

“ Perhaps your latter ‘ because ’ supplies the most 
truthful answer to your Why question,” answered 
Sir Charles, with something like a sigh ; 11 for cer- 
tainly, my old tutor’s pretty daughter was possessed 
of the magic of beauty and innocence — a combina- 
tion which it is rather difficult to meet with when 
young ladies have become what is called £ formed,’ 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


37 


and have graduated in the world’s school of conven- 
tional hypocrisy. ” 

“ Oh ! hear him ! treason in the camp ! ” laughed 
Mr. Arlington. “ What Daniel has now come to 
judgment ? Who is the rash youth who breaks his 
lance with society, and runs a tilt at match-making, 
in as calm and business-like a way as I, now, will 
screw from the red, and hold you in the side-pocket ! 
There ! no sooner said than done. Have the good- 
ness to mark four to the favor of spot. And so, 
because Miss Fifteen was your first and fleeting 
love, you despair of ever finding a Miss One-and- 
twenty for your second and sound love ? ” 

“ Not altogether ! ” replied Sir Charles. “ If I 
lost Rosaline, I hope to meet with a Juliet. You 
may remember what Byron says — 

‘ Love bears within its breast the very germ 
Of change; * 

and I do not expect my school-boy love, however 
deep it may have been, to last out my life. But 
what I meant to say, was this — that when young 
ladies’ ears have been dinned by * the snake Society’s 
loud rattles’ (to quote Byron once more) — their 
moral mind becomes partially deaf, and the truthful 


88 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


innocence of early girlhood is not to be found ; in 
short — ” 

44 In short, 0 speaker of monstrous treason ! in- 
terrupted Mr. Arlington, 44 I will hear no further 
slanders *of the fair sex. If you were as I am, an 
£ engaged 5 man, you would change your jaundiced 
opinions, and confess that the young ladies of this 
Victorian era are not only the superiors of the men, 
but the superiors of the young ladie^ of all times, 
in beauty, acquirements, modesty, sincerity — ay, 
and in pluck, too.” 

44 You are but a partial advocate ; for, you speak 
as an 4 engaged ’ man,” said Sir Charles. 

44 And, therefore, as a man in a healthy frame of 
mind,” replied his friend, 44 1 heartly wish that you 
were in the same state. You may depend upon it 
that a good, honest love, is the only medicine that 
can 4 minister to a mind diseased ’ like yours : and 
I should advise you to take my prescription without 
loss of time.” 

44 1 cannot take the prescription until the medicine 
has been placed before me. And, perhaps, it will 
not then meet my case. Love-philtres do not agree 
with every one.” 

44 Don’t they ? — try them, and see. You will find, 



Billiards by Gas-light— (See page 51.) 











NEARER AND DEARER. 39 

t 

that Restoration hangs its medicine upon the lips of 
Love. — Ask Cordelia if it is not so ?” 

“ Well,” replied Sir Charles, in a dubious tone, 
“ perhaps I may some day make the experiment ; but, 
at present, I have not much faith in that kind 
of physic. I prefer the Traviata’s medicine, and 
cure my ills by giving myself up to pleasure. I 
think I hear little Piccolomini singing my maxim ! ” 
and Sir Charles hummed — 

“ A1 piacere m’affido, ed io soglie 
Con tal farmaco i mali sopir ! ” * 

the while he balanced himself on one leg, and thrust- 
ing his cue behind his back, struck into one of those 
remarkably uncomfortable, and apparently impos- 
sible attitudes, in which billiard-players love to in- 
dulge. He stood in his own light ; and, as the 
room was darkened by the falling snow, and the 
waning fire-light, he fouled his stroke ; and forth- 
with burst into invectives against the weather, won- 
dering how much longer this sort of thing was to 
continue. 

“ Can’t say — not being in the secret,” replied Mr. 
Arlington. 11 But, one thing seems certain — hunt- 


* La Traviata , Act I., Scene 1. 


40 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


ing will be a sport for the future, and not for the 
present.” 

And, as he spoke, the flickering glare of the 
fading fire-light fell upon a fox’s mask, that 
appeared to grin with malicious delight at the 
defeat of the sportsmen, and the reprieve of 
Reynard. 


Copter |I|. 

“ And first our school for ladies ; pity calls 
For one soft sigh, when we behold these walls, 

Placed near the town, and where, from windows high, 
The fair, confined, may our free crowds espy, 

With many a stranger gazing up and down, 

And all the envied tumult of the town ; 

May, in the smiling summer-eve, when they 
Are sent to sleep the pleasant hours away, 

Behold the poor, (whom they conceive the bless’d,) 
Employed for hours, and griev’d they cannot rest.” 

Crabbe. The Borough , xxiv 


See page 47 . 





CHAPTER III. 


MINERVA HOUSE. 

inerva House, — Academy for 
young Ladies, conducted by Mrs. 
Clapperclaw, with the assistance 
of competent teachers and skilled 
Professors (see advertisement), 
— was situate at no very great 
distance from the small market- 
town of Somerford, and was second only, in size and 
importance, to its aristocratic neighbor, Somerford 
Hall. The hall and the school were the pride of 
the parish, and were pointed out to strangers as lions 
that were upon an equal footing with the Branch 
Bank, and the new Corn Exchange. 

Minerva House was a great, gaunt, red-brick 
building, whose style might be described as ugli- 
ness with stone dressings, and which, as a lion, was 
remarkable chiefly for its dimensions, and its aspect 



44 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


of dull respectability. In its construction, the archi- 
tect’s aim appeared to have been to present an inju- 
dicious combination of a hospital, a workhouse, and a 
private lunatic asylum, — a tria-juncta-in-uno de- 
sign, which he had very cleverly succeeded in carry- 
ing out. Minerva House was a house of three sto- 
ries, and, consequently, of three rows of windows — 
which storied windows were richly dight with stiff 
wire blinds, placed at a sufficient height to prevent 
even the tallest young lady (Miss Sprouts, who, in- 
deed, had frequently tried the experiment), from 
peeping over them, unless she mounted upon a chair 
for the purpose — and, for this, there was a forfeit. 
Mrs. Clapperclaw was a terrible disciplinarian in the 
matter of pecuniary forfeits ; she exacted them with 
the most uncompromising strictness, and impounded 
the money in a missionary-box of a bilious aspect, 
and altar-tomb shape, which ornamented the fire- 
place of her own private sitting-room, and was a 
standing monument of her thoughtful piety. Mrs. 
Clapperclaw, at any rate, affirmed that the forfeited 
monies were placed within this altar-tomb, and were 
from thence disinterred at certain periods, and for- 
warded to the friend of her youth, the Rev. Simeon 
Goole, for the purpose of being devoted to mis- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


45 


sionary objects ; and I trust that such was the case. 
But, I am inclined to favor the supposition enter- 
tained by certain of the young ladies, that this same 
bilious box served a like purpose to that celebrated 
collegiate bank of deposit called u the University 
chest,” to which fabulous receptacle, all kinds of pay- 
ments are presumed to be consigned ; though, what 
the chest is, or why the money is put there, or how 
long it is suffered to remain there, and what is done 
with it when it is taken put of there, are questions 
on which undergraduates may speculate, but not ex- 
plain. Yet, be this how it may, Mrs. Clapperclaw 
conscientiously exacted pecuniary forfeits for stand- 
ing upon chairs ; for neglecting to converse in 
French during u the periods allotted to recreation ; ” 
for receiving or remitting letters through the hands 
of the day boarders (by which means a clandestine 
correspondence between Miss Sprouts and the drug- 
gist’s assistant — a sallow young man, full of whis- 
kers and poetry — had been brought to the verge of 
an elopement ) ; for perseverance in stooping during 
school-hours ; for untidiness in bed-rooms ; for 
surreptitiously lighting a candle in a bed-room, 
for the purpose of novel- reading ; — for these, and 
many other offences of the like gravity, for which 


46 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Mrs. Clapperclaw exacted pecuniary forfeits, her 
bilious missionary-box must have been greatly bene- 
fited, and the payment of her own rent and taxes 
considerably aided. 

If Minerva House could have spoken — if that 
lion of Somerford had been endowed with a voice — 
the roar it would have roared would have shaped 
itself into the words, “ Buckram and Backboard.” 
The sermons of its stones would have been preached 
from the same text — Buckram and Backboard. 
Divided into the three normal divisions — one for 
each story — the subject, however handled, would 
most incontestably have proved, that Minerva House 
was — Buckram and Backboard. It was written 
upon every wall, and window, and door. The air 
of it was diffused around every brick and stone ; 
and, permeating the interior, wandered amid furni- 
ture of a grim aspect, and most uncomfortable up- 
rightness. 

In the centre of the ground-floor of this Buckram- 
and-Backboard building, was the hall-door, over 
which, a gaunt head of the Medusa had been carved 
upon the key-stone, by way of ornament, and was 
popularly supposed to be a sculptural portrait of 
Mrs. Clapperclaw. The door was approached by a 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


47 


gravel walk, flanked by grass plats, and eight poplar- 
trees. The walk was wide and straight ; the poplars 
were narrow and straight, and appeared to have 
been reared with the use of the backboard. These 
backboard-poplars were backed up by backboard 
walls, which formed the two sides of a courtyard 
parallelogram, of which the house closed the one 
end, and a wall and gate shut in the other, and shut 
out the profane world from the sacred precincts of 
Mrs. Clapperclaw’s school. Over the great iron 
gate, there was a semicircular board — a very rain- 
bow of an advertisement, on which was painted, in 
stiff backboard letters — 



This was the text from which Mrs. Clapperclaw 
discoursed in her circular sermons to parents and 
guardians, wherein she affirmed that her chief care 


48 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


was to judiciously combine the acquired refinements 
of polite society with the domestic simplicities of a 
private home. Which domestic simplicities were 
presumed to refer to the daily supply of scraggy 
mutton and stodgy rice-pudding, on which her 
young friends were permitted to banquet. (“ Young 
friends / 5 be it observed, was Mrs. Clapperclaw’s 
circular synonym for pupils.) Of course it was 
Mrs. C.’s chief care that the religious and moral 
training of her young friends should be most strictly 
and carefully attended to, Mrs. C. looking upon 
herself not only as an educator of youth, but much 
more as “ a great moral engine . 55 The circular 
sermon then went on to state that Trench was con- 
stantly spoken by the young friends of the Great 
Moral Engine, and that competent professors at- 
tended to give instruction in the Latin, Greek, 
French, German, and Italian languages (Hebrew 
and High Dutch, it is to be presumed, could be 
added to this polyglot list) ; that the harp, piano- 
forte, singing, drawing, and flower-painting were 
cultivated as delightful sources of pleasure and 
amusement ; and that the hours of recreation 
(during which French was constantly spoken) were 
varied by many little but instructive pursuits. 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


49 


After stating that reference was kindly permitted 
to the Rev. Simeon Goole, Bethel House, Clap- 
ham, the Great Moral Engine then shut off the 
steam of her circular sermon, and concluded thus : 
“ Without wishing to overrate her own poor endea- 
vors (for poor all our endeavors must be, even at 
the best !), yet Mrs. C. will venture, with some 
pride, to call attention to the admirable system 
which she has introduced for the moral guidance of 
her young friends, which has been crowned with so 
much success, and brought so many blessings upon 
those who have been intrusted to her care. In so 
good a cause Mrs. C. is ever ready to spend and be 
spent.” Ill-natured persons were sometimes dis- 
posed to interpret this closing exhortation of Mrs. 
Clapperclaw’s circular sermon considerably to the 
disparagement of that Great Moral Engine ; and 
certainly the nota bena that followed, relative 
to the spoons, forks, and mugs that were to 
be brought by the young friends, carried the 
thoughts of the reader to the silver and riches 
of this world. 

Of the domestic establishment of Minerva House 
there were two persons, a lady and gentleman, of 
3 


50 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


■whom we wish more particularly to speak. They 
were 

** Two beings in the hues of youth,” 

and both were young, though neither could be 
called beautiful. 

With regard to the lady, Miss Dorothea Dot, 
who officiated as housemaid to the Great Moral 
Engine, there was, indeed, much about her that 
compensated for artistic beauty, for she had a frank 
face, radiant with sunny good humor ; and after 
all that is said of your Yenuses and Hebes, that is 
the best kind of beauty that we could desire to see, 
because it is the most lasting as well as the most 
pleasant. Sunny little Dolly Dot must certainly 
have been own sister to that Peg of Limavaddy 
whose smile “ lighted all the kitchen.” 

“ See her as she moves ! 

Scarce the ground she touches. 

Airy as a jay, 

Graceful as a duchess; 

Braided is her hair. 

Soft her look, and modest, 

Slim her little waist. 

Comfortably boddiced.” 

Even such was Dolly Dot. 

With regard to the gentleman, who was Mrs. 
Clapperclaw’s sole man-servant, his waist was cer- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


51 


ainly anything but slim, and he had no more per- 
sonal beauty than might be found in a prize pig, or 
the fat boy in Pickwick. The stoutness of this 
young man may have been attributable to his inces- 
sant feeding upon the remnants of rice-puddings, 
the fattening properties of which nutritious articles 
of school consumption had developed into an aggra- 
vating enlargement of person, that demanded a 
corresponding enlargement of clothing. As a mat- 
ter of course, he was rather expensive in the article 
of livery. 

Indeed, Mrs. Clapperclaw at length lost all pa- 
tience, and one day said to him, 11 Fido ! ” — his sur- 
name was Fido, and if it was a misfortune to him 
thus to bear the name of a pet spaniel, the Post- 
Office Directory could prove that others were equal- 
ly unfortunate — “ Fido ! ” said the Great Moral En- 
gine, “ I declare, that in the course of a year you 
have as many suits as a pack of cards.” And she 
accordingly gave Mr. Fido notice that she could not 
bear this sort of thing any longer, and that if he de- 
termined to further increase his size, he must do so on 
other premises than those of Minerva House. 
Either this threat, or the abnegation of rice-pud- 
dings for a lenten season, produced the effect in- 


52 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


tended, and for the last six months the measure of 
Fido’s livery had not required any alteration. 

Fido had his qualities, or he would not have 
remained for four years in Mrs. Clapperclaw’s ser- 
vice. But he had also his weaknesses, and his 
particular weakness was one which has been general 
in all ages and in all countries — Love ! He had 
an unaccountable weakness for falling in love at a 
moment’s notice, and without any reasonable cause, 
with every parlor boarder who came under the 
roof of Minerva House. Like Viola, he never told 
his love, or breathed a word of affection into a par- 
lor boarder’s ear; he knew his place too well to 
be guilty of such an indiscretion, but his fat frame 
w T as a very volcano of eruptive emotions, which 
raged only the more fiercely from having to be 
repressed. Nevertheless, these were but transitory 
affairs, never lasting over the holidays, but terminat- 
ing with the “ breaking-up.” 

It may readily be imagined that, living daily in 
the society of so fascinating a female as Miss Doro- 
thea Dot, a young man of Fido’s susceptible tem- 
perament could not be insensible to her charms, or 
remain altogether untouched by her graces. But 
the conflicting claims of the parlor boarders had 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


53 


hitherto restrained him from saying anything of a 
very definite nature to his fellow-servant ; and his 
procrastination on this point was assisted by that 
sluggishness in action and decision which an over- 
fat habit of body commonly begets. Dolly ap- 
peared to be far from indifferent to Fido’s feelings 
towards her, and the rogue being quite aware of 
this, thought he could bring matters to a close at 
his own time, and so preferred to play his fish a 
little longer before he landed his catch. But Miss 
Dolly knew the value of having two strings to her 
bow ; and although she very readily accepted Fido’s 
attentions as far as they went, yet, until they had 
taken the definite form that she wished them to 
take, she gave a tacit encouragement to another 
enamoured swain — the baker, who daily paid pro- 
fessional visits to Minerva House. 



















































































































y , 

— 




- 

v 



























s 
























* 


























































































/ 


dliapter Jill. 

Hor You will lose this wager, my lord. 

Ham t do not think so. — Hamlet , Act V. Scene, II. 



See page 60 . 






/ 



CHAPTER IV. 


A WAGER. 



HE snow fell more 
densely ; as it did so, 
the billiard - room at 
Somerford Hall grew 
darker. 

Sir Charles Chatter- 
ton took a spill from 
a vase for cigar-lights 
that was upon the man- 
tel-piece, and present- 
ly a flood of light was 
thrown upon the bil- 
liard-table from the 
two triple clusters of 
lamps that stretched 
above it, and which now showed that their eyes were 
not by any means weak, although they were provided 
with green shades. Often had the young man 
turned night into day ; now, by way of variety, he 
sought to change day into night. So he drew down 
the blinds over the bay window and the half-glass 


58 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


door, and thus altogether shut out the sight of the 
falling snow. 

“ I feel as though I had brought you down here 
under false pretences,” he said to his friend. 

“ Not a bit of it, old fellow ! ” observed the Hon. 
Frederic Arlington, as he lit another cigar and 
threw some fresh logs upou the waning fire. 

“ To promise you sport, and then not to give it, 
seems like forfeiting one’s word,” said Sir Charles. 

“ Your horses might as well have remained at Bice- 
ter for all the use that you are able to make of 
them ; and if you must move from here on Satur- 
day, why, as to day is Wednesday, there seems very 
little prospect of any alteration of affairs. ” 

u Y ery little indeed. I commence the game, I 
believe. ” 

“ And, as usual, leave me nothing. Who ever 
thought of snow coming to-day ! the very day of all 
others when it was least desired — the Nobblers’ 
Pitch-day — one . of the very best meets we have. 
It’s provokingly unfortunate ! ” 

“ Yes, it’s hard lines ! ” replied Mr. Arlington, 
attentive to the game. “ Just hand me the mace. 
I think I can make a winning hazard. There it is ; 
beautifully done, too, though I say it. ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


59 


“Not long since,” observed Sir Charles, “you 
were recommending love as a medicine to suit my 
case. If I take it at the present time, it would be 
because I cannot take that, to me, more agreeable 
medicine of hunting. Don’t you retnember the 
Spectator’s definition of hunting ? ” 

“ What spectator ? ” 

“ The 1 Spectator 5 who looked on everything with 
such clear eyes and sound judgment.” 

4 1 Oh, Addison ; I comprehend. And pray what 
may be his definition of hunting.” 

“That it is ‘ the best kind of physic for mend- 
ing a bad constitution and preserving a good 
one ! 5 A happy definition, and as it seems to 
me, a considerable improvement on Dryden’s 
couplet : 

* Better to hunt the fields for health unbought. 

Than to fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.’ ” 

“ Bravo, Spectator ; Sir Roger must have shown 
him some sport.” 

“ More, at any rate, than this weather will allow 
me to show you,” said Sir Charles. “ If the snow 
continues — and there seems to be no chance of the 
frost breaking — I think I shall be inclined to make 
my excuses to my worthy aunt, and move off from 
here with you on Saturday.” 


60 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ By all means.” 

“ But, in the mean time, we must endeavor tc 
amuse ourselves in some other way than playing 
billiards, and walking to the stables, to see our 
horses eating their heads off.” 

“ We’ll have the pool swept, and skate.” 

11 To amuse the ducks and geese, who will be the 
only spectators of our skill !” 

“ Oh, I see ! you go in for vanity,” laughed Mr. 
Arlington. “ What do you say to snow-balling, it’s 
a healthy and exciting exercise ? or, making a 
snow man, which is an ingenious adaptation of a 
branch of the fine arts?” 

“ Cannot your inventive genius suggest some more 
novel method of killing time, and driving away the 
blues?” 

“ Ay, there’s the rub ! Now is the winter of our 
discontent. Wanted immediately ! a sun of York.” 
Mr. Arlington smoked, and played for awhile in 
silence, and then exclaimed, “ Eureka — as the shirt- 
man says. I have it ! ’ 

“What is it? duck-shooting or sleigh-driving?” 
asked Sir Charles. 

“No! something more amusing, and original,” 
replied Mr. Arlington. “ Listen, and I will my 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


61 


tale unfold. When I was quartered at , there 

was a girls’ school in the place. One day, when we 
were unusually hard up for something to do, we 
were making bets about all sorts of absurdities. 
At last, a little fellow, who had only lately joined, 
and had just left a public school, laid two to one 
that he would go to this girls' school, inquire for 
a young lady he had never seen, and would cut off 
a lock of her hair, with the young lady’s full 
permission to do so, and before the face of the old 
governess. Well, the bet was taken, and the little 
fellow won it; for, he went to the school, and 
returned with a lock of hair, which he declared, on 
his word of honor — and we had no reason to doubt 
him — he had obtained in the prescribed way, the 
young lady consenting, and the old governess look- 
ing on.” 

“And, how did he manage it ? ” asked Sir Charles. 

“ In this way,” replied Mr. Arlington. “ He went 
to the school (in mufti) and asked to see Miss 
Smith, having very correctly surmised that the 
chances were strongly in favor of there being a 
young lady of that name in a school of half a 
hundred pupils. He was quite right, for there was. 
He pretended to be some relative, and was shown 


62 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


to the room where the young ladies had interviews 
with their parents and friends. Of course when 
Miss Smith came in, she knew that it was no 
relative who had come to see her ; but the young 
rascal had a great deal of savoir faire , and at once 
very politely explained to her the real state of the 
case, and begged that she would suffer him to win 
his wager. I think he said something about having 
noticed her when she was out taking a walk ; or, 
perhaps, she may have had her schoolgirl’s vanity 
gratified by the idea that she had a military 
admirer. At any rate, she laughingly consented to 
play her part ; and when the governess came in 
she snipped off a little tress, and handed it over to 
her pretended relative, who invented some cock- 
and-bull story to account to the governess for so 
lover-like a transaction.” 

“ But what is this a-propos to ? ’ 

“ I propose that we do the same.” 

11 That we do the same ? ” echoed Sir Charles. 

“ Yes, why not?” replied his friend. “ There is a 
girls’ school not far off, I know, because we passed 
it in coming here. If we can’t get any hunting, let 
us have sport of some sort ; and, for want of some- 
thing better to employ our time with, I propose, 



“ Such a Singular Feeling.” — ( See page 84, 

















. 


' 


*' 


X 


' 


■ 






. 










•A 






. 














NEARER AND DEARER. 


63 


that I bet you (or you bet me ) that I (or you ) shall 
go to this school, and obtain a lock of hair from 
any one of the young ladies, with her consent, and 
in the presence of the schoolmistress. Neither of 
us are known to her, so she cannot tell what 
relation we may be to the young lady. If all does 
not go on as smoothly and straightforward as it did 
in young What’s-his-name’s case, then it will make 
it all the more exciting. And, besides, in making 
a bet, and taking odds, there ought to be some 
chances in favor of the bettor. So, 1*11 toss you 
which of us goes to the school.” 

“ I should not like my aunt to know of such a 
mad thing. It would be disagreeable to her.” 

11 But, how can she ? the schoolmistress will not 
know who you are. But, if you don’t like to go, I will. 

“ Oh no ! I’ll take my chance, ” said Sir Charles, 
“ anything is better than mooning about between the 
house and the stable, with no prospect of crossing 
the country, or hearing the music of the hounds. 
I’m tired of billiards ; I’m bored by the snow ; I’m 
disgusted with myself for having brought you down 
here for a week’s hunting, and then finding you 
none ; and I feel ready to do anything to kill time, 
and give one a little excitement. ” 


64 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Ready for anything, from pitch-and-toss to man- 
slaughter, eh ? suppose we have the former. Heads 
I go, tails you go. Two to one on the man who 
goes.” Mr. Arlington spun a penny in the air. It 
fell upon the hoard of green cloth, and revealed that 
sitting figure of Britannia vulgarly denominated 
“ tails.” 

“ I go,” said Sir Charles. 

“ Two to one you don’t bring back the lock of 
hair !” said Mr. Arlington. 

“ Done, — in ponies,’ replied Sir Charles. “ So, 
to-morrow for the sleepless dragon, and the golden 
apples of the Ilesperides. Hercules befriend me !” 

And thus it was that two young men, who were 
supposed to have arrived at years of discretion, 
made a foolish wager, because they were eaten up 
by ennui , and because there was snow upon the 
ground. Oh, that snow ! if it had not been for that 
fall of snow, Sir Charles Chatterton w r ould have 
ridden to meet the hounds at Nobblers Pitch, and 
in all probability, would never have met with — 

But, we are anticipating. 


Chapter 0. 

‘ Love is the pleasant frenzy of the mind ; 

And frantic men, in their mad actions, show 
A happiness that none but madmen know.” — Lrydee. 

‘ Quoth he, to bid me not to love, 

Is to forbid my pulse to move, 

My beard to grow, my ears to prick up, 

Or, when I’m in a fit, to hiccup ” — Hudibras. 



V 



CHAPTER V. 

LOVE IN LIVERY. 


N the morning 
after the conver- 
sation between Sir 
Charles Chatter- 
ton and the Hon. 
Frederick Arling- 
ton in the billiard- 
room of Somerford 
Hall, Miss Doro- 
thea Dot was rais- 
ing a terrible dust in the front sitting-room of Mi- 
nerva House. 

It was the apartment dedicated by the Great 
Moral Engine to the interviews that took place 
between her little tenders and their visitors. From 
this specimen of Mrs. Clapperclaw ’s abode, the 
interior of Minerva House appeared to have fully as 
backboard-and-buckram an appearance, as the ex- 
terior. Everything in this room was tall, straight, 
and stiff. To begin with, there were two doors, 
which might, at a pinch, have been taken off their 
hinges, and used as veritable backboards. When 



68 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


you assumed the Englishman’s normal position in a 
room — that is to say, stood upon the hearth-rug, so 
as to present the base of your spine to the genial 
warmth of the fire, you had one of these two back- 
board doors on either hand ; the door to your right 
hand led into the front hall, and admitted the 
vistors ; the door to your left opened into the back 
hall, through which the Great Moral Engine steamed 
up with her tenders, and brought them into the 
paternal or friendly presence. Planting yourself 
still upon the hearth-rug, in your Englishman’s 
position, you would have, over against you, two tall 
straight, and stiff windows, furnished with tall, 
straight, and stiff wire-blinds; and, if you were as 
tall, and straight, and stiff as a grenadier, you 
would be enabled to peep over these wire-blinds at 
the cheering prospect of the backboard poplars 
backed up by the backboard walls, the two parallelo- 
gram grass plats, the wide straight walk, and the 
iron gate surmounted by its advertising rainbow. 
Recovering your spirits from an inspection of this 
cheering prospect, you might, perhaps, be enabled 
to remark, that on either side of the tall, straight, 
and stiff windows, were tall, straight, and stiff 
curtains, bilious draperies of the color of a London 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


69 


fog, trimmed with London smoke; and, that these 
perpendicular pieces of upholstery, were connected 
towards the ceiling, by a horizontal mass of foggy 
biliousness, finished merrily off with a funereal fringe 
of black worsted, and two gilt Roman fasces to give 
it a classical air. 

Still standing upon the hearth-rug in your 
Englishman’s attitude, you would — provided that 
the genial warmth of the fire, concentrated upon the 
base of your spine, had not produced feelings of 
syncope — you would, no doubt, observe, that in 
addition to a central, and two side tables (all of the 
hardest and the straightest), the room was fur- 
nished with ten stiff-looking, upright-backed chairs, 
of a last-century pattern, with hard black horse- 
hair seats, which were considerably grazed by time, 
and the sittings of the paternal and friendly visitors 
to the Great Moral Engine’s tenders. Prickly pieces 
of horsehair projected from these seats in an aggra- 
vating manner ; so that, when a male visitor in his 
summer clothing placed himself upon them in a 
sitting posture, it was not unusual to see him give a 
convulsive leap in the air, as though he had sat upon 
pins ; or, if he were a man of Spartan firmness, and 
Chesterfield politeness, he had to remain, as upon 


70 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


thorns, and grimly smile at the motherly pleasant- 
ries with which Mrs. Clapperclaw assisted at the 
interview between a parent and his child. Once, 
indeed, when a little girl of the tender age of 
some five years, had been brought to see her elder 
sister, and had been politely lifted by the Great 
Moral Engine on to one of these prickly seats, the 
child (whose very short and very stuck-out frock 
could not interpose between herself and the chair) 
gave such a yell of anguish, that her immediate 
abdication became necessary, and her tears and 
pain could only be assuaged by the soothing 
liniment of Mrs. Clapperclaw’s choicest apricot 
preserve. 

On the right-hand side of the room, where was 
the back- board door leading into the front hall, was 
a tall, straight, and stiff piano-forte, of that antique 
shape known as an “ upright cottage.” This name, 
unless it signified a cottage of honest principles, 
probably pointed to a straight-up-erected cottage, to 
which, indeed, the piano-forte nearly assimilated in 
height, besides being furnished with a mahogany 
roof and overhanging eaves, and, by way of decora- 
tion, a grass plat frontage of faded green, puckered 
up into silken rays, that centred in a harp that had 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


71 


never seen Tara’s halls. The pattern of the wall- 
paper figured upon stripes of alternate grey and 
stone-color, resembled a chaos of mathematical 
problems, and might have been designed by Euclid 
after a Welsh-rabbit supper at his Alexandrian Club. 
This problematical paper was studded at intervals 
by black crayon drawings, inserted in leather-work 
frames, the drawings and frames being equally the 
production of certain pupils of Minerva House. 
The frames represented a variety of withered leaves 
and russet flowers ; and the drawings depicted a 
series of young ladies, and long-bearded mulatto- 
like gentlemen, who had been stumped — though not 
as cricketers are stumped, or Jeremy Diddlers are 
stumped, — but worked up with the leather stump 
into a ferocious and smudgy state of blackness, and 
were gazing, with their black looks out of their 
flowery frames, in all varieties of bad drawing, and 
feeble execution. 

This buckram-and-backboard reception-room was 
Dolly Dot “ putting to rights.” She had lighted the 
fire, had turned up the tall, straight, and stiff chairs 
one upon the other, and was now ferreting about in 
all the holes and corners, and making a terrible dust 
by the agency of a broom. Outside the windows, 


72 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


everything was covered by a thick layer of snow ; 
inside the windows every thing was covered by a 
thin layer of dust. The snow was upon the paral- 
lelogram grass-plats, the backboard poplars, and 
the advertising rainbow ; the dust was upon the 
bilious curtains, the upright cottage, and the 
withered leaves of the flowery-frames. 

“ Bless me ! ” thought Dolly Dot, as she swept 
here, and dusted there ; “ what a thing it is to be a 
housemaid in a academy. Work, work, work, from 
morning till night. Here it’s getting on for twelve 
o’clock, and the front parlor not done yet ; all in 
its dish-of-billy, as missis says, when she hasn’t fixed 
her curls on. And why can’t Fido come and help 
me ? he promised to desist me. But he is so slow 
over everything — even in his courting of me, his 
infections seem to be froze up, like the pump. It’s 
now four years since him and me began to keep 
company, and he’s never hurried himself to pop the 
question yet : but I think he wants to do so from 
the way he’s let his hair grow. I wish he would ! 
I’m sure I give him every importunity. Oh ! here 
he comes.” 

Fido entered the room in a very lethargic manner, 
languidly polishing a lady’s shoe. His fat person 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


73 


was adorned with a white neckcloth, a scarlet 
waistcoat with gilt buttons, and invisible green 
trousers with a gold stripe. At the present, he wore 
his short pink-and-white striped morning jacket, 
which at the approach of any visitor, or for waiting 
at table, was exchanged for an invisible green short- 
tailed coat with gilt buttons, and gold lace upon the 
collar and cuff3. Out of doors, the splendor of his 
appearance was rendered complete by a gold-banded 
hat, and white Berlin gloves. 

“ Well, sir,” said Dolly, with a pout, “ at last you 
can find time to come, can you ? I hope you’ve not 
hurried yourself ! ” 

‘‘Hurried myself!” replied Fido, in a thick, fat 
voice ; “ hurried myself ! no, Dolly, I should rather 
think not. When a young man comes to be in my 
condition, it ain’t no good his hurrying himself, 
the very thought of activity and motion becomes 
positively offensive.” 

“ Why, good gracious me ! what’s the matter ? ” 
asked Dolly. 

“ Matter ? ha ! ” replied Fido, with a fat chuckle, 
as he laid the blacking-brush over that part of his 
scarlet waistcoat under which his heart was presumed 
to be situated. “ Dolly ! I’ve a silent sorrow here. 

4 


74 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Here, underneath this gay exterior, I’ve got such an 
amount of haccumulated hagony, that my only 
wonder is it hasn’t blown off all the rows of roley- 
poley buttons, and revealed itself to the eyes of the 
astonished Clapperclaw. Dorothea ! I’ve let con- 
cealment, like a worm in a tub, prey on my damask 
cheek ! It’s wearing me away gradually. I feel it 
a wasting of me. I gets thinner every day, and 
lose my happetite for wittles. And some day, Dolly, 
you’ll find this suit of inwisible green, and nothing 
more of its inwisible owner than a broken heart to 
tell you £ This was Fido ! ’ ” At the thought of which 
touching picture, Fido appeared to be visibly 
affected. 

Dolly had paused in her polishing of the hard 
straight table, and looking curiously at her fat 
fellow-servant, said, with the air of an augur, 11 1 see 
what it is, Fido, you are in love ! ” 

“ In love ? ” echoed the stout youth, “ that’s too 
mild a hexpression ! I’m plunged over ead and ears 
in"a very abyss of haffection.” 

“ Why of course you be !” said the gratified 
housemaid, misinterpreting Fido’s manner and 
words ; “of course you be ! and you are low- 
spirited because you are afeard your detachment 
isn’t returned. ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


75 


“Yes! that’s about the ticket,” replied the de- 
sponding lover. 

“ Well, then, Fido,” said Dolly, who felt that now 
was the time to reveal the truth, and bring matters 
to a denouement , 41 I’ll tell you a great secret. Your 
love is returned !” and as Dolly looked down with 
maiden modesty over the polished table, she fancied 
that her reflected cheeks were brightened by a blush. 

“ Is returned ? you don't say so !” cried Fido, 
incredulously. 

“ Yes, I do,” said Dolly, deliberate even in her 
timidity. 

“ La ! the picter is too bright ! ” ejaculated the fat 
youth, as he fell into a reverie, and there laid the 
foundation fora castle in the air. 44 And I’m beloved ! 
my affections was not misplaced. Oh ! what a 
hecstacy to think that Harabellar loves me ! ” 

“ Who loves you? ” asked Dolly sharply, as her ear 
caught the sound of that proper name. 

“ Who ? ” replied Fido, “ why her you was talking 
of — Harabellar to be sure ; who else ? ” 

44 Talking of her ! I was talking of myself. It 
was me that returned your detachment ! It was me 
that loved you ! me, you little monster !” and Dolly 
clutched the long handle of her broom in a very 
savage and threatening manner. 


76 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ You ! Pooh !” said Fido, loftily waving his 
blacking-brush ; “ the past is a dream, a wision.” 

“ But I see how it is,” said Dolly, slightly recover- 
ing the control over her feelings ; “ you’ve been 
falling in love with another of the young ladies, 
you have; you little weak-minded, good-for-nothing 
wretch ! ” 

‘ 1 And what if I have, Miss Dot ?” rejoined the 
fat youth ; “ ain’t it a hamiable weakness? ” 

“ Fido! ” replied Dolly, with stern manner and 
stinging point, li it’s a hamiability you indulge in 
rather too much. That’s the seventh young lady 
this half-year, and a fortnight yet to the holidays. 
Do you think, sir, that I’d have interested myself to 
get you this sitewation, and raised you from being a 
harrand boy at a chemist and druggets, if I could 
have seen that you’d go and fall in love with all the 
parlor-boarders ? Fido, you ain’t fit to be a page 
in a boarding-school ; you don’t know how to take 
care of yourself. Fido, you’re a reg’ler Don Juan.” 

But, undeterred by this terrible epithet, the fat 
youth sniggered, with an air of conscious pride, “ Ha, 
ha ! I rather believe I am.” 


[ 


“ I knew ’twas madness to declare this truth. 

And yet, ’twere baseness to deny my love. 

*Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds, 

Lighter than children’s bubbles blown by winds; 

My merit but the rash result of chance, 

My birth unequal; all the stars against me.” — Dryden. 

“ Oh, he is lost in a fond maze of love, 

The idle truantry of callow boys! 

I’d sooner trust my fortunes with a daw 
That hops at ev’ry butterfly he sees.” — Otway. 




Seep. 73 . 






CHAPTER YI. 


LOVE, THE LEVELLER. 


.NT) now, sir,” 
said Dolly com- 
ing to the point, 
“who is Ara- 
bellar ? ” 

“ Well,” said 
Fido, who was 
inclined to fence 
with the question, “ I don’t see 
that I’m obliged to tell you, 
neither. However, I don’t mind, just for once. 
Perhaps it’ll mitigate my sorrows ! Listen, Do- 
rothea ! My Harabellar is Miss Harabellar Sophiar 
Robinson, at present a hinmate of this academy.” 
And Fido warmed his back at the fire, and looked 
around with a triumphant air at the crayon heads 
in the leather- work frames, as who should say, “ Be- 
hold me ! the Don Juan of livery.” 



80 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Little Miss Robinson ! ” laughed Dolly, with a 
sneer ; “ well, Fido, I would have chose a bigger ! 
Ha, ha ! why she’s only twelve years old.” 

“Of that fact, I’m aweer,” replied Fido ; “ but 
then, won’t she grow older, and improve with age — 
like wine? ” 

u And if she did,” pursued Dolly, “ she’s a born 
lady, and would never be ignited to you. ” 

“Ha!” said Fido, with his fat chuckle ; “ but love 
levels all distinctions. And if her parents should 
cut up rough, and won’t give their consent to such 
a heligible inwestment for their daughter, why then,” 
continued Fido, who had once had (as his master 
the chemist and druggist, soon discovered) rather 
too great a partiality for the acted drama, “ then I 
shall bear her away to some far-distant climb, and 
there we’ll build a harbor by some green wood, on 
the banks of some philandering stream, and pass 
our days on love and watercresses. Dost like the 
picture ?” He put this question, a la Claude Mel- 
notte, with a floating remembrance of a descriptive 
speech in the Lady of Lyons. 

But, Dolly was not to be led away by his dra- 
matic powers; and speedily brought him back to 
the realities of common life. “ Oh ! you ridiculous 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


81 


— little — fat man ! why, you know you’ve promised 
to be welded to me, as soon as ever we’d got 
money enough to open a green-grocery ; and while 
I was to mind the shop, you were to go out to 
parties, and wait.” 

“ Wait ! it’s you are the party that’ll have to 
wait,” said the faithless Fido. “ Though I have 
drawn picters of fancy, in which I chose to put you 
for a figger, yet, you must remember, Miss Dot, 
that I havin’t gone so far as to commit myself to a 
reg’lar engagement. Whether I chuses to marry 
you, or no, all depends upon circumstances over 
which I hav’nt any control. I refers to the feeling 
of the ’art ; and, since Harabeller has looked upon 
me, I’ve a soul above green-grocery, and white ber- 
lins.” 

“Very well, Mr. Fido ! ” said Dolly, with her 
most bewitching pout, “ you can do as you please. 
You can take up with your chit of a Harabella, and 
leave me to my baker.” 

“ Baker ! bother the baker !” cried the fat youth, 
indignantly polishing at his lady’s shoe. 

“Yes sir, the baker,” said Dolly, pursuing her 
advantage ; “ what have been pertickler attentive to 
me sir ! pertickler attentive !” and Dolly flourished 
her duster in Fido’s face, in a very flippant manner. 


82 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Pertickler attentive has he?” echoed Fido, fu- 
riously polishing the shoe; “ pertickler attentive ; 
ha, ha ! — my suspicions is realized. There was a 
crumminess about that baker, as led me to suspect 
that he was a trifling with my affections : but I’ll 
give him a twist. Pertickler attentive ! why, you’ve 
been with him now ! ” and Fido looked full into 
Dolly’s face. 

“ In course I have ! ” replied that maiden. “ He’s 
just been giving in the half-quarterns.” 

“ I see it all ! ” said Fido : “ he’s been giving in 
something else besides the half-quarterns. Why, 
there’s a patch of flour by your mouth ! what right 
has he to go leaving his mark on my property, 
eh ?” 

“ Your property, indeed ! not till you’ve made 
them yours, sir ! ” replied Dolly. “Now, Fido ! if 
you’ll give up your Harabellar, I’ll give up my 
baker ; but, not without.” 

“ Well ! I’ll try to ; but, it’s a ’ard struggle ! ” 
said the fat youth, with a touch of remorse, and of 
the drama likewise. “Fido ! England expects you 
to do your duty ! Fido, you are required to give up 
your Harabellar, and to resume your Dorothea ! ” 

“Why, now,” observed Dolly, as she put the 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


83 


straight-backed chairs in their proper places. “ I 
daresay this little Miss has never compressed you 
with any of her obserwations, has she ?” 

“ Oh, has’nt she though ! ” cried Fido. 44 Why, 
it was only this very morning, that she say3 to me, 

4 Fido,’ says she, in a woice of hangelic sweetness 
— poor thing ! she’s a hawful cold in her head ! — 

‘ Fido,’ says she ; ‘ will you be keyind enough to 
clean them shoes ? ’ To which I answered, 4 Yes, 
Miss,’ says I, 4 1 will.’ And I said no more ; but 
I gazed upon her with such a haspect of devotion, as 
must have told her of the silent hagony as was con- 
suming me. My eyes was always thought to be ex- 
pressive ! ” 

44 Oh, you conceited little addle-pate ! ” said the 
vituperative Dolly. 44 And so you’ve been idling 
away all the morning by cleaning them shoes ! ” 

44 Idling? it was a labor of love,” responded 
Fido. 44 Look at them trotter-cases ? there’s a sym- 
metry and style about them, as goes to the ’art. 
Whenever I puts on a bit of polish, I thought of her 
bright face ; and, when I looked on ’em, I wish’d I 
could be in their place, and pass my life at her feet. 
Oh, it’s a hawful feeling is love ! ” 

44 Yes, it is, Fido,” said the sympathetic Dolly 


84 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ it makes one feel very weak.” And she edged her 
way round to the corner of the table, and came close 
to Eido. 

“ I believe you ! ” said he. “ It’s a sort of all- 
overishness.” 

“ As calls for support,” continued she, leaning 
upon Fido’s shoulder. 

“ And a good deal of strength,” said he, as he 
experienced her weight. 

“ And sympathy,” said she, with a sigh. 

“ And polish ! ” said he, as he blacked away at the 
shoe. 

“ And — and — and — ” said she ; but she sugges- 
tively wiped her mouth with her apron. 

“ And Day and Martin’s rewiver ! ” said he, pursu- 
ing his shoe-blacking, and refusing to take her hint. 

“ Fido ! how slow you are in your apprehensions,” 
cried Dolly, in a vexed tone. But as the fat youth 
continued to polish the shoe, she changed her tactics, 
and cried, u Oh, dear ! Oh ! good gracious me ! ” 

“ What’s the row ? ” inquired the impassive Fido. 

11 Oh ! such a singular feeling ! ” cried Dolly, 
hastily ; “ so funny ! just between my nose and my 
chin ! oh, dear ! do see, if you can see anything, 
Fido ? ” and she held her face temptingly close to his. 



The Sudden Recognition. — ( See page 112 .) 







NEARER AND DEARER. 


85 


But the obdurate fat youth, after a close exam- 
ination, merely replied, “ No ! there’s nothing 
visible there, to speak of — except the mouth ; 
nothing ! ” 

“ Are you quite sure, Fido? do look again. I 
— I think it is the mouth ! ” and the persevering 
Dolly almost blushed. 

/ “ Oh ! it’s wery transparent now ! ” said Fido, on 
whose fat faculties the truth began to dawn : “ I see ; 
you want me to kiss you ! Well, I don’t mind 
obliging you for once.” So, he put his lips to hers. 
“ They ain’t bad : I’ll do it again ! ” he said. So he 
did it again. Just then, a bell rang. 

“ That’s the missis's bell,” cried Dolly, “ and this 
room not dusted. Run and answer it, Fido ! now, 
do go a bit quicker. I never see you in a bustle.” 

11 1 should think not,” answered Fido, as he slowly 
turned his back on Dolly ; “ it’s only women that 
require such things. Ain’t I symmeterical enough 
in my proportions without requiring such helps to 
hadd to my hattractions ? Yes, I’ll answer the bell ; 
and then, T shall gain a sight of my Harabellar. 
0 Harabellar ! little do you know what your Fido 
is a suffering for you ! ” and, with a deep sigh, the 
fat youth slowly made his exit. 


86 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Now, if I didn’t know Fido’s weaknesses, I 
should be downright jealous,” thought Dolly, as she 
busied herself about the buckram-and-backboard 
room, to make up for lost time. While she was 
doing so, she heard the gate slam, and presently 
there came a loud knock at the front door ; and, as 
Fido had gone to answer Mrs. Clapperclaw’s bell, 
Dolly was obliged to answer the front door. 

On opening it, she saw a fashionably-dressed 
gentleman, with blue eyes, light hair and moustache, 
and, apparently, about three-and-twenty years of 
age. 



(Ejjapffr 0$$. 

5 ‘ 1*1! bat bring my young man here to school.” 

Merry Wives of Windsor , Act IV., Sc. 1. 


See p. 93 . 




CHAPTER VII. 


A VISITOR AT MINERVA HOUSE. 


S Miss Smith within ? ” in- 
quired the gentleman with 
the moustache. 

“ Miss Fanny Smith, sir ? 
Yes, sir; ” replied Dolly. 

“ Oh! that’s fortunate : ” said the moustached 
gentleman — Sir Charles Chatterton, in fact, who 
had come from Somerford Hall to Minerva House, 
in order to win (if possible) the wager that he had 
made the day before with his friend Mr. Arlington ; 
at any rate, to kill the time, and to provide for him- 
self a little novel amusement. Sir Charles was 
shown by Dolly into the backboard-and-buckram re- 
ception room, just as Fido entered it by the other 
door. 

“ I wish to see Miss Smith. By the way,” said 
Sir Charles, addressing himself to Dolly, “ that 
collar of yours is not a very pretty pattern. Per- 
haps, you will allow me to present you with this, to 
buy you a new one,” and he handed her half a 
sovereign, and then went to the fire, to warm his 



90 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


hands, without bestowing any attention on Fido, 
who came forward, and pulled up his own collar 
in an obtrusive manner, and said “ Mine ain’t 
a pertickler pretty pattern, nor a pertickler new 
’un. ,, 

But Dolly w r as pondering over the piece of money. 
u A gold half-suffering ! he must be a prince in dis- 
guise. This’ll go towards the green-grocery estab- 
lishment,” she whispered Fido. 

“ Then I’d better keep it for you,” returned the fat 
youth ; “ in case the green-grocery should be an in- 
wention.” 

“ I daresay,” said Sir Charles, turning to Dolly ; 
“ I daresay that you frequently get that sort of collar 
from young gentlemen when you pass notes on the 
sly — eh ? ” 

“ Ah, sir ! ” sighed Dolly, as memories of pecu- 
niary presents rose in her mind ; “ them little notes 
was, as one may say, my requisites.” (Perquisites, 
the Malapropish young lady meant.) “ It wasn’t for 
me to go a hinterfering with the young ladies’ little in- 
nocent recerrations ; so I took whatever the young 
gents gave me ; and if any one 3aid ‘ Please to take 
this billy doo,’ why — ” 

“ You never said ‘ Billy don’t, I suppose, ” said 
Sir Charles. 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


91 


“ La ! No, sir ! ” replied Dolly energetically. 
“ And sometimes it were happles as were supposed to 
come from the young ladies’s ma’s.” 

“ Ah, I see, Mars and Venus,” said Sir Charles. 
u But how were the apples to secure the young ladies’ 
affections ? ” 

“ In this way, sir,” replied Dolly. “ The billy- 
doo was put in along with the fruit, hinside one of 
the happles. This went on very well, sir — and 
many an honest shilling it put into my pocket — till 
about two years since, when, one morning, I comes 
into the school-room with a basket, and I says, 
‘Fruit for Miss Flirt, ma’am,’ says I — just so. 
And missis says, ‘Why, Miss Flirt,’ says she ; 
‘ that’s the fourth basket you’ve had this week ! ’ 
says she — just so. For, you see, sir, the young 
gent was very sweet indeed upon her ; and, as he 
was only on a visit, he wanted to bring affairs to a 
chrysalis ! ” 

“ Chrysalis ! cried Sir Charles, wno was amused 
by Dolly’s language and naivetS , as well as by the 
oddity of Fido : “chrysalis? I suppose you mean 
crisis ? ” 

“ She makes a hawful hash of her werry wulgar 
tongue, sir,” interposed the explanatory Fido : “but 


92 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


you see, sir, she hai’n’t had the advantages of hedu- 
cation like — some I could mention.” 

“ Chrysalis, or crisis : I suppose it’s all the same, 
sir? „ said Dolly, with a curtsy. 

“ Noj my good girl,” answered Sir Charles. 
“ Chrysalis, is the beginning of the end : crisis, is the 
end of the beginning. But, pray go on with your 
tale.” 

“ Well, sir,” continued Dolly, “ as I were saying, 

* That’s the fourth basket you’ve had this week,’ 
said missis — just so. ‘You’ll have the chollery 
porpus, or a fit of apple pecks if you eat ’em ; so I’ll 
take ’em myself,’ says she — just so. Well, sir, she 
do take ’em herself ; and, inside the very first apple, 
she finds a billy doo, as had been rolled up very tight, 
and poked into the apple, through a little hole at 
the top ; and, this was from the young gent, if you’ll 
believe me, sir, to say he’d got the po-shay all right, 
and at twelve o’clock that very night, Miss Flirt was 
to lower herself down from her winder, and elope 
with him to Gretna Green. The missis took on 
about it tremendous, and Miss Flirt was obligated 
to leave. It was a sad loss to me, sir ; for the 
missis has been sharper than ever since then ; and 
billydoos is now very scarce indeed.” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


93 


At this moment, a voice was heard without, call- 
ing “ Dolly ! Dolly ! ” 

“ Oh ! that is missis, sir ! cried Miss Dot. “ She’s 
just come out of school. Shan’t I catch it for not 
going to denounce you ! ” 

“ Then I’ll give you something to avert her fury,” 
said Sir Charles. 

“ What, sir ? ” asked Dolly. 

“ The kiss of peace,” replied Sir Charles, carrying 
his words into execution ; while Dolly quickly broke 
from him, and retreated through the door leading 
into the back hall. 

Pido had looked upon this little episode with 
aught but pleasurable feelings. “ Hollo, young 
man,” he thought ; “ you’re a-going it, you are ! 
There’s a hextent of coolness about that proceeding, 
which I don’t at all admire. Ain’t it enough for 
that crummy baker to come a poaching on my pre- 
serves, without you a-firing off of your salutes ? I’m 
Mowed if that Dolly ain’t a regular man-trap set on 
these premises. — Take a chair,” he added, aloud, and 
in a not over-civil tone, as he pushed one of the tall, 
straight-backed chairs towards Sir Charles, and 
shook his fist at Sir Charles’s unoffending hat, 
which was placed upon the table — a private piece of 


94 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


pantomime which appeared mightily to relieve Mr. 
Fido’s feelings. 

“ Well so far,” thought Sir Charles, as he turned 
his back upon Fido, and looked into the fire — “ so 
far my adventure has been satisfactory, and I would 
lay odds that I win my wager yet. The first step is 
gained ; I’m in the house, and there is a Miss Smith. 
I thought it would be very strange if so large a 
school could be without a representative of the name. 
I think I may conclude that Arlington’s ponies and 
Miss Smith’s lock of hair are mine — unless the 
young lady should w T ear a wig. I dare say it will 
not take much persuasion to induce a merry school- 
girl to lend herself to a bit of fun for a few minutes. 
And, already, I feel all the better for having some 
novelty to interest me : I shall really be Miss 
Smith’s very considerable debtor. Miss Fanny 
Smith, the domestic called her — a pretty name 
pinned to an ugly one. By the way, I ought to have 
asked that domestic what Miss Fanny Smith was 
like. Oh * here she is ; this is fortunate.” 

“ If you please, sir,” said Dolly, standing within 
the doorway, “ Missis wants to know if you are 
Miss Smith’s brother?” 

“ Brother? oh bother ! ” echoed Sir Charles : upon 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


95 


which, Dolly, whose ears were deceived by the sound 
of the interjection, immediately vanished, and re- 
turned, and told her mistress that the officer-looking 
gent had said he was Miss Smith’s brother. 

“ Here, don’t run away ! ” cried Sir Charles. 1 The 
provoking girl ! I’ve got no information to act 
upon, and I shall be in a mess unless I’m very care- 
ful. Oh ! there’s my fat friend ; I dare say he can 
tell me something about the young lady. Here ! 
what’s your name ?” 

Fido slowly carried his stout frame from the other 
side of the room, and, striking into a dramatic 
attitude, exclaimed in. his fat voice, 4 My name 
is Fido on the Grampian hills, also in Minerva 
House.” 

“ Then, Fido,” said Sir Charles holding up to him 
a half-crown — “ do you see this, my friend ? ” 

“ Unless,” replied Fido, “ my horgans of wision 
aint a-performing the duties that are required of 
them, I’ve a vivid impression that I does see it.” 

“ Very well,” said Sir Charles ; 44 then, if you’ll 
do me a favor, I’ll give you this — to buy some col- 
lars with.” 

44 Oh, ha ! ” cried Fido with rising indignation ; 4 1 
see through it now. But, I’m not a-going to take 


96 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


your money as Dolly did ! I’m not a-going to do 
as she did ! Collars, indeed ! I’m not a-going to 
be paid to be kissed /” And Fido, very highly 
offended, stalked out of the buckram-and-back- 
board reception-room, muttering, ‘ Collars, indeed ! 
Umph ! ’ leaving Sir Charles under the combined 
influence of astonishment and mirth. 


Chapter UJfJfJf. 

“ Lo where she comes along with portly pace, 

Like Phoebe, from her chamber of the East.” — Spenser. 

“ A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name.” 


Shenstone. 


nil 










i 


/ 



\ 




/ 




CHAPTER VIII. 


THE GREAT MORAL ENGINE. 

0!” thought Sir Charles : 
“ the domestic wished to 
know if I was Miss Smith’s 
brother. Apparently, she 
rushed to the conclusion 
that I was so ; for she made her exit, before I could 
confess, or deny, the charge. It’s another step 
gained, at any rate. Promoted to be Smith — 
Christian name, unknown — vice Sir Charles Chat- 
terton, by purchase (for he thought of his half- 
sovereign given to Dolly). Smith is a decidedly 
popular name, I find ! ” thought he, as he went to 
the pianoforte, and found that upright cottage fur- 
nished with a little brass plate, on which was en- 
graved, “ Smith, Maker; London.” 

“ I wonder what its tone is like,” said Sir Charles, 
thinking aloud. Without more ado, he satisfied 
himself on this point, by striking some chords. 

Now, it has been mentioned that the upright 
cottage was upon that side of the buckram-and- 
backboard reception room which was opposite to 



100 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


the door that opened into the back hall ; conse- 
quently, Sir Charles’s back was turned upon the 
person who now entered the room through that door, 
and stood there transfixed with surprise at finding 
her visitor very coolly thumping upon the piano. 

She was a lady of large dimensions and u portly 
pace,” dressed in a well-worn black silk, with a 
shawl loosely thrown about her shoulders. She had 
a dried-up sort of face, very like a kippered-salmon ; 
she had a pair of spectacles, large enough for the 
bird of Minerva ; she had a black wig, coming low 
down upon her forehead, and bursting out upon her 
kippered-salmon cheeks in a paroxysm of little 
ringlets, like hairy corkscrews ; she had a cap made 
of stiff and dark materials, from which depended 
two streamers, almost as stiff, and straight, and 
square-cut, as if they had been designed for an 
Egyptian head-dress ; and she had upon her hands 
black kid gloves with the fingers cut off apparently 
for the purposes of ventilation. As she clasped her 
hands tightly over each other, and stood up stiff 
and straight, she looked in perfect keeping with the 
room, and the objects around her — buckram-and- 
backboard to the backbone. 

“ What an instrument ! ” said Sir Charles, think- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


101 


ing aloud : “ how I pity the unfortunate being who 
has to teach the young idea how to strum, on such an 
instrument as this ! I can hardly imagine that she 
would do it, if her ears were her own property.” 

“ Sir, they are not !” said the Great Moral En- 
gine, as she began to let off the steam of her dis- 
pleasure. “ They are my property ! ” 

“ That quite alters the case ! ” said Sir Charles, 
rising from the music-stool with the greatest self- 
possession and nonchalance. “ Mrs. Clapperclaw, I 
presume. Good-morning, madam. Permit me to 
offer you a chair.” Which Sir Charles did in the 
politest, coolest, and most deferential way. 

“Sir ! ” puffed forth the Great Moral Engine, 
“ have you visited my academy for the purpose of 
injuring my pianoforte ? ” 

“ Certainly not, my dear madam, 5 ’ replied Sir 
Charles, with unabated sang froid. “ I was but 
trying it : and, a worse instrument — ” 

“ Sir ! ” said Mrs. Clapperclaw. 

“ Or, one less devoid of tone” — continued Sir 
Charles. 

“ Sir ! ! 55 said Mrs. Clapperclaw, rather more 
loudly than before. 

u Or one more utterly and altogether unfit for 


102 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


the purpose, I think I never heard ! ” concluded Sir 
Charles. 

“ Sir ! ! ! ” again said Mrs. Clapperclaw, more 
loudly still — her, three “ Sirs” increasing in vol- 
ume like the voices of the three bears ; “ Sir ! do 
you come here to insult me?” 

“ By no means, madam. I only speak of your 
instrument ; and truth ought never to be felt as an 
insult. Listen to my defence ! ” And Sir Charles 
wildly struck some chords, that were quite suffici- 
ently ear-piercing and inharmonious. “ Anything,” 
thought he, “ to keep the old lady from speaking to 
me about Miss Smith. I’m in a fix now : my ad- 
venture has taken an awkward and unexpected turn. 
What can have induced this old woman to intrude 
herself here ? ” “ There, Mrs. Clapperclaw,” he 

said, “ 1 put it to you, as a reasoning and reflecting 
member of society, whether this instrument is fit for 
any one to learn on.” 

“ Such as it is, sir,” loftily replied the Great 
Moral Engine, “ I deem it perfectly adequate for the 
requirements of my more juvenile young friends. 
Sir, young ladies of quality have received the rudi- 
ments of their musical education upon that instru- 
ment.” 



Retrospection. — ( See page 124 .) 




NEARER AND DEARER. 


103 


“Very rude rudiments ! ” thought Sir Charles : 
t£ and the young ladies of quality must be worse off 
than the world gives them credit for.” 

The Great Moral Engine was still standing stiff 
and straight, with her steam up. 

Sir Charles began to think that he had gone 
rather too far, “ Pray, pardon me,” he said ; “you 
will think me wanting in courtesy.” 

“ No, sir,” was the reply ; “I am a woman of 
large sympathies, and can make every allowance for 
the peculiarity of your case, and your protracted 
absence from the land of your birth.” 

“ Absence from the land of my birth ! ” thought 
Sir Charles : “we live, and learn.” But he merely 
politely bent his head, as he stood leaning upon the 
back of the chair that he had offered to Mrs. 
Clapperclaw. 

That worthy lady still remained in her buckram- 
and -backboard attitude, stiff and straight, with her 
shawl drawn around her, and her black kid ven- 
tilators tightly clasped over her black silk dress. 
But, a milder expression came upon her kippered- 
salmon face, as she said, in precise and formal tones, 

“ The customs, sir, of the country from which you 
have just returned are, I am aware, lax in the 


104 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


extreme. But, how could we expect it to be other- 
wise, in a land where, as I have been informed, 
academies are unknown, and Lord Chesterfield and 
the use of the globes are unheard of? I have had 
serious thoughts, sir, of being the humble instru- 
ment to organise an academical mission to that be- 
nighted land, where my principles of instruction 
would be fully developed, and politeness and the 
backboard practically carried out. I am a woman 
of large sympathies myself, and I grieve to think 
that any of my fellow-creatures should be ignorant 
of such important acquirements.” 

The Great Moral Engine shut off the steam for a 
moment — leaving Sir Charles in doubt as to whether 
she had been talking of the Great Desert or the 
Cannibal Islands — and then, benignantly regarding 
him through her spectacles, resumed. “ You, doubt- 
less, have now returned, sir, to cultivate the olive 
of peace.” 

“The olive of peace?” thought Sir Charles: 
“ does the woman take me for a market-gardener ? ” 

“ Ah, sir ! ” said Mrs. Clapperclaw, fetching up 
a sigh, like a moral pearl, from the depths of her 
capacious bosom, “ why do we not cultivate that 
tree more largely ? because, sir we fail in our sym- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


105 


pathies. I myself am a woman of large sympathies, 
and I can feel strongly upon the subject. What 
was it that induced me, when my late husband, the 
lamented Mr. Clapperclaw, died, and, through 
certain convulsions in the tallow trade, left me 
almost destitute — what was it that induced me to 
open this academy for young ladies, but my sympa- 
thies ? They suggested to me that my widowed life, 
and my humble talents, might be beneficially directed 
to the instruction of the junior weaker vessels ; and, 
I at once, unhesitatingly, devoted myself to the task.” 

“Noble and disinterested woman!” said Sir 
Charles admiringly, but, appendicing a doubtful 
“ ahem ! ” as he curled his moustache. 

“ But, sir,” said the woman of large sympathies, 
bringing (for the present) her autobiographic 
sketches to an end, “ you have not yet spoken of 
your sister, whom you have travelled so far to see ; 
and my sympathies tell me that your heart must be 
full of her.” 

“ Exactly so, madam ! ” stammered Sir Charles ; 
“ quite full ; in fact, too full for utterance, which 
was, perhaps, the reason I did not mention her. 
But, of course, I am dying to see her.” 

“ Well, sir,” replied Mrs. Clapperclaw, “ I will at 
6 * 


106 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


once tell her that you are here. We have just dis- 
missed our young friends from their matutinal studies ; 
and, as it is a half holiday with us to-day, Miss 
Smith will now be at full liberty to see you. I will 
return with her ; as I am desirous of being present 
at your first interview, after a separation of so many 
years, for, I am a woman of large sympathies my- 
self, and I rejoice in the sympathies of others ! ” 
Whereupon, the Great Moral Engine steamed out 
of the backboard-and-buckram reception-room, with 
a stiffness and straightness of attitude and attire, 
and with every feature of her kippered-salmon face 
hardened into a statue-like repose. 

“ Hang your large sympathies ! they have com- 
pletely upset all my plans,” thought Sir Charles, as 
he was left to the solitary enjoyment of his own 
company : “ I did not calculate upon the old lady 
being present at the commencement of our interview ; 
and now I shall have no time tb let this Miss Smith 
into the ^secret. Mrs. Clapperclaw talked about 
my coming from a distant country, and years of 
separation. There’s hope in that ! Miss Smith’s 
brother must be changed in that time. Pshal 
what folly : of course, she will at once see that I am 
not the true Simon Pure ; and then, most probably, 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


107 


I shall be had up for a swindler. Agreeable and_ 
refreshing series of events, certainly ! I suppose 
the spoons are safe elsewhere ; and, as for the piano, 
it isn’t worth a note, much more a five-pound one, 
and it would be rather an awkward thing to conceal 
about one’s person. Well ! Miss Smith will preserve 
her lock of hair undamaged. I wonder if they are 
carrots ? Arlington will win his wager, and I shall 
run the chance of losing my reputation. The worst 
of it is, that it will reach my aunt’s ear. I wonder, 
too, what this Miss Smith is like? Some little 
bread-and-butter Miss, I’ll be bound ; in her 
pinafore, instead of her teens, and in tears when she 
speaks to a stranger. I dare say she’ll howl 
when she sees me. Upon my word, I think I had 
better beat a retreat, and pay Arlington his wager ! 
Discretion ’s the better part of valor. I’ll try 
the windows.” 

But, when he went up to the bilious draperies, 
and the stiff wire-blinds, he found that the windows 
were nailed up, and impracticable. 

“ If this is to prevent gentlemen from getting ira,” 
thought Sir Charles, 1 1 it is equally effective in pre- 
venting them from getting out. I must try and 
slip out by the front door.” 


108 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


But when he went to it, lie heard approaching 
footsteps, and the voice of Mrs. Clapperclaw. There 
was no escape for him, and he had no course left 
but to remain in the backboard-and-buckram 
reception-room, and there calmly await his fate. 

“ Now for the little bread-and-butter miss ! ” 
thought Sir Charles. 


>5 


If. 

V 

“ And doth not a sheeting like this, make amends ? 

“ — Can you so stead me. 

As bring me to the sight of Isabella, 

A novice of this place, and the fair sister 
To her unhappy brother Claudio ? ” 

Measure for Measure , Act I., Sc. 5. 

“ Who should be loved but you ? 

Come to ray arms, and be thy Harry’s angel.’ * 

Nat. Lee. ( Duke of Guise.) 


I 





See page 40 





CHAPTER IX. 


MISS SMITH. 

H E tender, in 
whose company the 
Great Moral Engine 
now steamed into 
the backboard-and- 
buckram reception- 
room of Minerva 
House, was no 
bread - and - butter 
miss, but a full- 
grown young lady, whose one-and-twentieth birth- 
day was not very far distant. And no sooner had 
this fine-grown young woman caught sight of Sir 
Charles Chatterton, than she made a rush forward, 
steamed rapidly away from the side of the Great 
Moral Engine, and — utterly forgetful of the pro- 
prieties — threw herself into the young man’s arms. 

“ Oh, my dear, dear brother ! ” cried this enthusi- 
astic young woman, “I am so overjoyed at seeing 
/ou! ” And she certainly appeared to be so ; for 



112 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


she fondled and kissed him without a moment’s 
hesitation or reserve. 

Here was a situation for Sir Charles ! Matters 
had taken a very unexpected turn. “ I am glad 
that I didn’t run away,” he thought, “for the bread- 
and-butter miss is decidedly agreeable.” 

“ Oh, Harry ! ” continued the young lady, who 
was in a pretty flutter of joy, and was clinging to 
£ir Charles with the most child-like confidence, “ I 
have looked forward to this meeting for so long, 
that now it is indeed come, I can scarcely believe 
that it is real, and that you are truly here.” 

“Pray don’t doubt it,” said the young man; 
“ you have tangible proofs of my presence, and the 
evidence of my own lips.” And Sir Charles — who 
generally acted upon the impulse of the- moment, 
and had not learned to weigh consequences, or to 
turn at once into the path of duty — stooped his 
head, and pressed his lips upon Miss Smith’s fore- 
head. 

Mrs. Clapperclaw stood stiff* and upright, with 
her shawl draped around her, and her black kid 
ventilators tightly clasped ; and as she serenely 
regarded the clinging couple through her owl-like 
spectacles, an expression passed over her kippered- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


113 


salmon face as though she were reading an embodied 
treatise on the sympathies, and had lighted upon a 
passage that inculcated her favorite tenets. 

“ Not that I should have known you in the least, 
dear Harry ! ” observed Miss Smith : “for we were 
quite children, you know, when you left England ; 
and that is, oh ! how many years since ! ” 

“ I really have not the slightest idea,” rejoined Sir 
Charles ; who thought, “ I begin to see my way 
now. ” 

“ Long, long years they have been, Harry ! ” 
pursued the young lady; “ and when, this morning, 
your welcome letter came to tell me that you had 
arrived in England, and would be with me in a few 
hours, my joy knew no bounds. ” 

At which information Sir Charles’ surprise knew 
no bounds. Then the real brother was coming, 
might even then be traversing the snowy landscape, 
and within sight of the back-board poplars of Minerva 
House. The adventure that had commenced so 
pleasantly was likely to have a disagreeable termi- 
nation. Perhaps it was on this account, and because 
it presented a new combination of difficulties, that 
Sir Charles wa3 willing to thrust himself into its 
entanglement, instead of at once cutting the Gordian 


114 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


knot, by a frank avowal of the truth, and as honor- 
able a retreat as the circumstances permitted. Sir 
Charles was curiously constituted ; and his ex- 
cessively mercurial temperament led him to say and 
do many things (of which he was afterwards heartily 
ashamed) merely to kill ennui , and to pass away the 
time. 

“ It proved, ” continued Miss Smith, “ that you 
were glad to get back to England, and to your 
loving sister, after spending so many years in 
India. ” 

“ So ! ” thought Sir Charles, “ I’m come from In- 
dia, am I ? I wonder if I have any more brothers or 
sisters ! though this one is a host in herself.” Then 
— as he felt himself obliged to take part in the 
dialogue — he said, “And, for my part, I can say, 
with truth, that your affectionate welcome has not 
only inspired me with the most agreeable emotions, 
but has relieved me from several anxieties concern- 
ing this meeting that were — in fact, making me 
rather uncomfortable. ” 

“ Oh, Harry!” said the clinging young woman, 
as she looked up to him with a face brimful of 
affection, “ and could you think that your only 
sister — ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


115 


“ Only sister ! thank you for the information,” 
thought Sir Charles. 

“ — Could be such a traitor to the love she bore 
you as ever to forget you, even for a day, though 
twice these years had passed since last we parted ! ” 
and the bright face looked up into his with too 
much candor and truth to be doubted. 

“ That was not my meaning, ” Sir Charles said, 
hastily. 11 Who that had once known you could 
forget how to love you ? My heart returns your 
affection, and gives back sympathy for sympathy.” 

Sir Charles had no sooner uttered this, than 
the Great Moral Engine steamed up, and slowly 
raising her black-kid ventilators with a mute action 
of apology, said, “ Pardon me for interrupting the 
intercommunion of fraternal sentiment, but I believe 
the word you made use of, Captain Smith, was 
sympathy.” 

Sir Charles gave an affirmative nod, as he thought 
to himself, “ Captain Smith, am I ? If so, I think 
I’m not Captain Smith unattached.” And, as he 
looked at the pretty form beside him, he began to 
speculate on the proposition whether or no there 
was really such a thing as love at first sight. 

“ Sympathy, Captain Smith, ” said Mrs. Clapper- 


116 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


claw, again clasping her black-kid ventilators, and 
standing up stiff, straight, and solemn as the 
sphinx — “ Sympathy is a word which strikes a chord 
within me, that vibrates through my entire corporeal 
system.’’ 

“ Remarkably unpleasant, I’m sure ! ” apologised 
Sir Charles. iC I am sorry that I used the word.” 

“ Dismiss your sorrow, Captain Smith, ” said Mrs. 
Clapperclaw, and the little hairy corkscrews that 
fringed each kippered-salmon cheek seemed to 
quiver for very sympathy ; “ the sensation I alluded 
to is eminently refreshing. The interview between 
your sister and yourself has been particularly gratify- 
ing to me ; for I am a woman of large sympathies 
myself, and it invigorates me to behold the sympa- 
thies of others. I shall now — having had the 
privilege of witnessing that gush of affection which 
naturally bursts forth after being pent up for so 
many years — I shall now retire for awhile, in order 
that Miss Fanny may converse the more unreservedly 
with her long-absent brother. ” 

“ Excuse me, Mrs. Clapperclaw, ” said the volatile 
Sir Charles, who fancied that he now saw a triumph- 
ant way out of his difficulties, and also to the 
winning of his wager — “ excuse me ; but, before you 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


117 


go, may I ask if you have such a thing as a pair of 
scissors about you ? ” 

“ Scissors, Harry ! ” cried Miss Fanny, with curi- 
ous wonder. ‘ ‘ Whatever do you want with scissors ? ’ ’ 

16 Only to snip off one of those little tresses that 
cling so lovingly about your fair face,” replied Sir 
Charles. “ You will let me do so, will you not, 
Fanny ? ” 

“ Here are a pair, sir, ” said Mrs. Clapperclaw, 
producing them from the innermost depths of her 
well-worn black silk ; “ but I must remind you of a 
proverb that says, “ Scissors cut love ; ” and I 
should be unwilling to assist in the severing of 
sympathies. ” 

“ There is not the slightest fear of such an event 
in the present case, I assure you, Mrs. Clapperclaw,” 
observed Sir Charles ; and though he said this with 
a smile, he had a feeling that he was speaking 
more in earnest than in jest. “ But this is only 
a queer fancy of mine, and I hope it will be grati- 
fied. ” 

Of course it was gratified. Miss Fanny Smith 
released a tress of her nut-brown hair, Sir Charles 
snipped it off, and thus, according to the terms of 
the wager, fairly won Mr. Arlington’s twenty-five 


118 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


pounds. Was Sir Charles to win anything else 
before he left Minerva House ? He casually put 
this question to himself, but the time had uot arrived 
for an answer. “ At any rate, ” he thought, “ I am 
half in love with my dear sister already. ” And he 
carefully put up the tress of hair. 

“ I will now, ” said Mrs. Clapperclaw, “ leave you 
for a short time alone with your sister, Captain 
Smith. It is not my ordinary practice, as Miss 
Fanny knows, to be absent from the interviews of 
my young friends with any of their. relatives — ” 

“ Including cousins, I suppose ! ” thought Sir 
Charles. 

“ But yours is a peculiar case, ” said Mrs. Clap- 
perclaw. 

“ Very ! ” thought Sir Charles. 

“ And I do not scruple to leave you together with 
the most perfect propriety. For I am a woman of 
large sympathies myself, and I can feel for the 
sympathies of others. ” Saying which, the Great 
Moral Engine steamed slowly and uprightly out of 
the buckram-and-backboard reception-room. 


Cjrapftr % . 

** They come, the shapes of joy and woe, 

The airy crowds of long ago, 

The dreams and fancies known of yore, 

That have been, and shall be no more; 

They change the cloisters of the night 
Into a garden of delight; 

They make the dark and dreary hours 
Open and blossom into flowers ! 

I would not sleep; I love to be 
Again in their fair company; 

But, ere my lips can bid them stay. 

They pass, and vanish quite away. ’ * 

Longfellow. (The Golden Legend.) 

“ Fond mem’ry brings the light 
Of other days around me; 

The smiles, the tears, of boyhood’s years, 

The words of love then spoken. 4 * — Moore. 





See page 123 . 





CHAPTER X. 


RETROSPECTIONS. 




ELL ! ” said Sir Charles 



| ^ claw left the room ; “ I’m 
thankful that the old woman 
has had the decency to go.” 


Cbatterton, as Mrs. Clapper- 


Miss Fanny Smith laugh- 


ed her acquiescence ; “ for now,” said she, u we can 
talk more unreservedly.” 

“ The tug of war,” thought Sir Charles, “ has now 
come. Conversation will most assuredly bring up 
something to expose my deceit. However, I will 
keep up my incog, for a few minutes longer, and see 
to what this adventure will lead. Miss Smith is 
charming both in looks and manner, and she seems 
good-natured enough to accept my apologies. All 
the blame will fall upon my own head ; she is inno- 
cent, and free from censure ; so I will balance the 
pain of my forthcoming retreat and explanations, by 
one more minute of pleasure.” 


6 


122 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


u Do you know, dear Harry,” said Miss Fanny, as 
she scanned Sir Charles’s athletic figure, Saxon face, 
blue eyes, and blonde moustache, “ you are so 
altered since last I saw you as a little boy, that, un- 
less your letter had prepared me for your coming 
here to-day I should really not have known my own 
brother. But, I dare say, you find me quite as 
much altered. Should you have known me, now ? ” 
and the young lady, holding Sir Charles by either 
hand, drew back her head, with a roguish expres- 
sion of face, and challenged him to scan its pretty 
features. 

“ I positively should not have known you,” said 
Charles, with perfect truth. “ So now let me sketch 
your portrait, in order that it may be engraven upon 
my heart. A light active figure, neither tall nor 
short ; an upright carriage, a rounded form, an easy 
grace in every movement ; a modest dress, made 
with taste and fitting to perfection ; small white 
hands with long taper fingers, that only need a plain 
gold ring to make them perfection; drooping 
shoulders carried up to a stately throat, an oval face 
and delicately-formed head enriched with waving 
masses of 4 bonny brown hair ; 1 a marble forehead, 
wide and rather low ; eyebrows well defined ; eyes 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


123 


by no means small, of the deepest violet hue, fringed 
with long sweeping lashes ; a nose that was brought 
up to be straight, but has asserted its independ- 
ence by a piquant approach to a snub ; cheeks of 
healthy hue, that bloom with roses culled from the 
bower of Venus ; lips, ripe and loveable, that take 
the shape of Cupid’s bow ; a chin like Juno’s, and 
teeth like Cleopatra’s pearls. All this is but 
the outward show, and yet I see the inner beauties 
of your mind, the charm that live when cheeks have 
lost their youthful roses.” 

“ You are a flattering painter, sir ! ” said the 
young lady. 4i I am afraid that you look upon me 
with too partial eyes. Ah Harry ? you and I have 
seen many changes of fortune since last we parted. 
Well do I remember that time ! for those dark days of 
early sorrow often come back heavily upon me, 
when brighter and happier hours have passed from 
my memory. And yet a good fortune has be- 
friended us ; for although poor papa’s death obliged 
us to leave the dear old rectory, the pleasant home 
of our youthful days, still Heaven sent us a true 
friend, who not only purchased your commission but 
allowed dear mamma such a sum as enabled us to live 
in respectable retirement. For four years after you 


124 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


had sailed for India, mamma and I wanted for no- 
thing. Then, our kind benefactor’s bounty ceased 
with his death. Dear mamma, too, was in failing 
health at the time; and soon after, with her last 
breath, she prayed for blessings on Sir Charles Chat- 
terton.” 

Sir Charles Chatterton ! ” echoed the bearer of 
that name, in great astonishment. 

“Yes, Harry; Sir Charles Chatterton,” replied 
the young lady, composedly ; “ for, of course, your 
old playfellow succeeded to the baronetcy on the 
death of Sir Christopher — his father and our bene- 
factor. Ah, Harry ! times are sadly altered, since 
those old happy rectory days, when dear papa was 
tutor to the present Sir Charles.” 

They were now seated before the fire, upon two 
of those chairs that had such uncomfortably-upright 
backs, and such hard horsehair seats. As the 
young lady’s nJemory reverted to the scenes of the 
past, she leant her head upon her hand and fell a 
musing. Her companion was also plunged in thought. 
It required no effort of memory to bring back his 
old tutor to his mind, for he frequently thought of 
him, and .remembered him with affection and grati- 
tude. It was only on the previous day, that he had 




The Music Lesson.— (See page 136.) 















t 



NEARER AND DEARER 


126 


spoken of him and his children to his friend Mr. 
Arlington, in the billiard-room of Somerford Hall, 
little thinking that the daughter, who was his first 
and boyish love, was then so near to them ; least of 
all imagining that she was then a governess at Mi- 
nerva House, and would be the Miss Smith of his 
silly wager. The romping girl had grown into a 
woman, sobered by maturer years as well as by ad- 
versity ; but the promise of loveliness in the child 
had been amply fulfilled — the bud had flowered into 
a most glorious and enticing blossom. As he now 
gazed upon her, with the memories of the past tho- 
roughly awakened, he could trace in her features 
many of those traits of character and shades of ex- 
pression that had distinguished her as a child ; and, 
above all, he could perceive that the truthful honesty, 
fearless confidence, and natural simplicity that had 
so endeared her to him and to everyone in her ear- 
lier years, had become a part and parcel of her 
being, and had not only been grafted into her 
nature, but had flourished there and brought forth 
a kindly fruit. 

“ Do you remember, Harry, ” continued the young 
lady to her supposed brother, “ how frequently you 
were asked to Chatterton Manor, when you and the 
present Sir Charles were playfellows? ” 


126 v 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“I do, indeed, well remember those happy boyish 
days,” replied Sir Charles, guardedly. 

“ I dare say, ” said Miss Fanny, “ that when Sir 
Charles came to move in the great and fashionable 
world, he soon forgot his old companion.” 

“ Indeed he did not ! ” observed Sir Charles, with 
generous warmth. He had nearly betrayed him- 
self ! “ I — I have heard of him occasionally, ” he 

stammered. “ But have you never met with, or seen 
him?” 

“ Not since he has been Sir Charles.” replied the 
young lady, gazing full upon her companion, whose 
interest was now most thoroughly aroused. “ I can 
only remember him as a boy, when he used to ride 
over to the rectory ; but that is so long since, that 
I should not know him again.” 

“ So it seems ! ” thought Sir Charles. 

“ Yet,” continued Miss Fanny, with a frankness 
that was particularly agreeable to the gentleman, “ I 
may, perhaps, -see him at some future day ; for he 
has a relative — a Lady Linton — who lives near 
here ; and, if he should ever come to visit there, and 
I had the opportunity to thank him for his father’s 
kindness to my dear mother, I would do so ; for I 
hear that he possesses all the noble qualities of his 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


127 


father, and he would not he too proud to receive the 
gratitude even of a school governess.” 

Here Sir Charles saw a favorable opportunity for 
hiii) to throw off his disguise, and confess the foolish 
dilemma into which his thoughtlessness, ennui, and 
mercurial vivacity had thrust him. But, for the pre- 
sent, he fought off the disagreeble ccluircissement 
that he foresaw would arise from his confession ; and 
overcome by a masterful power that had taken pos- 
session of him, he gave himself up a willing prisoner 
to its tender thraldom. He, therefore, speaking for 
himself, but as the representative of Captain Smith, 
continued the conversation. 

11 Too proud to receive your gratitude ? that I am 
sure he would not be. He would only reproach 
himself for having so completely lost sight of his 
father’s friend ; at least I should do so, if I were 
he. But it was sad for you who had been so deli- 
cately reared, to change your old home and pleas- 
ant life for Minerva House and the hard trials of 
a school governess. ” 

“ Ah, Harry ! ” sighed the young lady. “ A go- 
verness ! it is the only refuge for respectable poverty ; 
the only spar left for a young girl to cling to when 
the storms of worldly losses have made shipwreck of 


128 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


her home. It was all that I had to fly to for sup- 
port, when dear mamma was gone ; for we had no 
kith or kin that could assist me ; you were in a 
foreign land, fighting your way to fortune and fame, 
and I was alone in the world. And though, Harry, 
you may smile at what I call my trials, yet, trifling 
as they were, I have sometimes found it a hard 
matter to keep a cheerful heart. And when the 
holidays came, and I watched the young ladies go 
away, and thought how many happy family greet- 
ings there would be, it was, perhaps, foolish of me, 
but the tears would start unbidden to my eyes, as I 
contrasted my lot with theirs, and remembered that 
I was a poor orphan, without a home to go to or a 
mother’s smile to welcome me. ” 

“ You don’t mean to say,” cried Sir Charles as 
he contrasted the pretty form before him with 
the gaunt stiffness of the buckram-and-backboard 
reception-room, and remembered the grimness of 
the Great Moral Engine — “ you don’t mean to say 
that you’ve passed all the holidays here , shut up 
with that old Clapperclaw ! I wonder that you’ve 
survived to tell the tale. Don’t tell me that she’s 
not behaved well to you, for if you do I am afraid 
that I shall do the old lady some bodily injury.” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


129 


Miss Fanny Smith was amused at her soi-disant 
brother’s indignation, but was thankful for the proof 
of his hearty readiness to shield her from trouble. 
She assured him, however, that there was no occa- 
sion for him to commit a breach of the peace, or to 
visit Mrs. Clapperclaw with assault and battery, 
inasmuch as that tried friend and instructress of 
youth had, at times, shown many kindnesses to her 
governess. 

The gentleman was delighted to hear this, but 
solely on account of the younger of the two ladies 
concerned. 

“ I think,” said Miss Fanny, “ that I have met 
with more real respect and affection from Dolly 
Dot the housemaid, than from any one else in this 
house. For, although she has a hard place, yet 
she has always been ready and willing to do any 
little service for me that she thought would in any 
way add to my comfort. Perhaps,” added the young 
lady, with a smile, “ she felt for me as a fellow. 
servant.” 

Their conversation was here interrupted by the 
entrance of Fido, whose fat person was now adorned 
by his short-tailed livery-coat of invisible green, 
with its gilt buttons and gold-lace collar and cuffs. 

6 * 


130 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Arrayed in this splendid garment, whose magnifi- 
cence was further assisted by the scarlet waistcoat, 
white tie, and gold-striped trousers, Fido was by 
far the most glittering object to be met with in the 
gloomy dullness of Minerva House. Amid the hard 
realities of that gaunt edifice Fido flitted to and 
fro like a ponderous butterfly, who had once been 
an elephant, but passing by metempsychosis into the 
order of lepidoptera, had been permitted to pre- 
serve somewhat of his former hugeness. Of the 
liveried Fido it might truly be said, that he made 
a sunshine in that shady place,” where he was not 
only valuable to Mrs. Clapperclaw as a walking ad- 
vertisement of the respectability of Minerva House, 
but where, also, the bright colors of his dress were 
as acceptable to the eye as is the figure of a scarlet- 
cloaked old woman to the landscape-painter. But 
Fido was ignorant of artistic “ spots of color,” 
nevertheless he regarded himself as a highly orna- 
mental appendage to the establishment presided 
over by the Great Moral Engine. 


^Iraptcr || 


“ Played false with a smith.” 

Merchant of Venice , Act I. , Sc. 2. 

* Love gives esteem, and then he gives desert. 

He either finds equality, or makes it; 

Like Death, he knows no diff ’rence in degrees. 

But plains, and levels all.” — Dryden. 

‘ The sun shall now no more dispense 
His own, but your, bright influence; 

I’ll carve your name on barks of trees 
With true-love knots, and flourishes. 

That shall infuse eternal Springy 
And everlasting flourishing : 

Drink ev’ry letter on’t in Stum, 

And make it brisk Champaign become.” — Hudibras. 



Seep. 141 


CHAPTER XI. 


CHAMPAGNE AND REAL PLEASURE. 

IDO opened the 
door of the buck- 
ram - and - back - 
board reception - 
room, retired for a 
second, and then 
reappeared, bearing 
a tray on which 
were wine-glasses, a 
bottle of wine, and 
a plate of biscuits. 

44 Here’s a ewent, miss ! ” said he, with his fat 
chuckle. 44 Missis is a coming it rayther, ain’t she? 
You know, miss, that it ain’t every day as she serves 
out the wittles in this ere reckless manner.” 

44 It is certainly kind of her to send the cake and 
wine,” replied the young lady. 

44 Kind, miss ! ” said Fido. 44 Ha ! ha ! I believe 
you. She says it’s to celebrate the return of Cap- 
tain Smith to Hingland ome and beauty. 4 Fido,’ 
says she, 4 the British barmy has a claim upon my 



134 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


sympathies.’ Cos why, sir? d’ye see, her husband, 
old Clapperclaw, was in the tal-ler trade, and sup- 
plied their barracks with his long and short sixes. 
He was a rum old feller, was old Clapperclaw, sir, 
lanky and yaller, like his own farden rushlights, as 
would have been considerably improved by another 
dip. This wine were made by the tal-ler-man’s 
mother, and it’s got the regular true tal-ler flavor.’ 

“ A rare quality in wine,” laughed Sir Charles. 
11 Pray, what may your mistress call it ? ” 

ct Champagne; ha ! ha ! ” chuckled Fido. “ The 
wine is the sham part, and comes first ; the pain fol- 
lers naterally of its own accord. I tasted it once. 
It was just the feeling of having your clothes made 
too small for you, and a tightening of you about 
the waist ; and,’ thought the fat youth to himself. 
“ 1 don’t like being squeeged in about the waist, 
it ain’t my idea of a good Agger. The biscuits,’ 
said this strange individual, as he presented a 
plate of them to Sir Charles, 1 the biscuits is Haber- 
nethy’s. Missis says they’s the wholesomest, which 
I dessay they is, because they’re too hard for you 
to injure yourself by a eating of ’em. But if 
you’ve a fancy, sir, to try your teeth on one of 
’em, I’ll fetch you a hammer and break you 
one ud.’ 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


135 


Sir Charles declined this proffered civility on the 
score that he had no taste for biscuit geology. 

‘ 1 She calls this ’ere, sir, a humble fete , she does,” 
said Fido, with a chuckle. “It’s humble enough, 
certainly ; but when my fate comes, I hope it won’t 
be sour gooseberry wine and fossil Habernethys. 
Har !’ cried Fido to himself, “ here is my fate ! it is 
my Harabellar ! ” 

The young lady who had extracted this last ex- 
clamation from the fat Fido had just entered the 
room with a dancing- master’s curtsy — advance the 
right foot, bring up the left in the third position — 
begin to bend — straighten your arms from the 
elbows — take lightly hold of your dress — slope the 
body, retreating with the left foot as you do so — 
sink gracefully, resting the weight of your body 
upon the left foot — rise slowly — draw the right 
foot back, and finish in the third position. Mrs. 
Clapperclaw was exceedingly particular that this 
“ manner of entering and leaving a room ” should be 
strictly observed by all her young friends, who 
would thus be fully qualified for the forms of the 
highest society of which they might hereafter be the 
pride and ornament. It was. indeed, one of those 
“ acquired refinements of polite society ” which, in 


136 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


her circular sermons to parents and guardians, she 
announced would be combined at Minerva House 
with a the simplicities of a private home.” Mon- 
sieur de Jones, the professor of dancing, deportment, 
calisthenics, Indian spear exercise, and the use of 
the backboard and dumb-bells, had positive orders 
that this necessary accomplishment, which was of 
such vital importance, should be duly enforced and 
practised. 

The pupil of Monsieur de Jones who now entered 
the room, with the acquired refinement of polite 
society insisted upon by Mrs. Clapperclaw, was a 
very young lady, who had barely commenced that 
interesting period of feminine existence known as 
the “ teens,” and was still in the full possession and 
enjoyment of a short dress and visible trousers. 
Her hair was, to a certain extent, dressed in the 
Oriental style, for it hung down her back in two 
* long plaits, which were fastened at their extremities 
by bows of brown ribbon. When she had recovered 
herself from her curtsy and third position, she pro- 
ceeded across the room to the upright cottage, and 
forthwith took her seat upon the music-stool. 

Her movements were watched by Fido with great 
attention ; so much so, that he became oblivious of 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


131 

the plate of biscuits he was holding, and dropped 
them from off the plate on to the carpet. 

“ This,” said Miss Fannv Smith to her pseudo- 
brother, in explanation of the appearance of this 
curtsying phenomenon: “this is one of my little 
pupils, Harry, come for her music lesson. I sup- 
pose Mrs. Clapperclaw has forgotten to counter- 
mand her coming, so I will just attend to her for a 
little. Perhaps,” she added, laughingly, “you can 
amuse youself with the champagne and the biscuits, 
which I see Fido is doing his best to break for you 
on the floor.” And the young lady went to the up- 
right cottage, and taking a seat beside her pupil 
pointed out the notes to her, counting the “ one, 
two, three, four,” which was to instill the idea of 
time into the mind and fingers of the bi-tailed phe- 
nomenon. 

“ It was a sudden spasm, miss, that’s all,” apolo- 
gised Fido, as he stooped, with much difficulty, and 
with effusion of blood to the head, and picked up 
the biscuits from the carpet, the while he thought, 

* Ah ! them spasms is a playing the wery doose 
with me ; they’re a hunfitting me for my right posi- 
tion in society. 0 Harabellar ! 0 Harabellar 
Sophiar ! the extent of spasms and other unpleas- 


138 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


santnesses as I’ve endured for you it ain’t in the 
power of mortial lips to reweal. But if the flut- 
terin hagony of a tortured ’art can ever be rewealed 
by a hincreasin’ size and a correspondin’ tightness 
of livery, then, and not till then, will you know the 
secret of your Fido’s love. Oh, Harabellar ! Hara- 
bellar, oh ! ” 

In the meantime what were the thoughts of 
Sir Charles Chatterton, as he stood by the fire, and 
watched Miss Fanny Smith bending over her small 
unmusical pupil ? First he thought on the remark- 
able way in which the present interview had been 
brought about ; how such an apparent trifle as the 
foolish billiard-room wager of yesterday, had led to 
the pleasant adventure of to-day, and the renewing 
of an old intimacy, and what was more, of an old 
love. Well did he remember her. Well did he 
remember her father, the good old rector, his 
tutor, to whom he owed so much. To whom he 
owed so much — Sir Charles mused upon this. 
His father had sought to repay the obligation 
by befriending the widow and children ; but 
he, from whom the obligation was really due, 
what had he done to pay his share of the 
debt ? Nothing. Yet, oven now, it was not too 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


139 


late to amend this orhission. He had long been 
seeking for a wife after his mind, but had sought in 
vain, and had found, instead, managing mammas, 
witbr ambitions daughters who were perfectly ready 
and willing to be called “ my lady,” and to be 
recognised as the wife of a baronet, who was of good 
family and position, as well as young and handsome, 
and (which was more to the point) master of some 
twenty thousand a year. All this fortune-hunting, 
and rich-husband-seeking, had tired and disappointed 
him : perhaps it had done more, and even disgusted 
him, and lowered his opinion of womankind in 
general. In his conversation with Mr. Arlington on 
the previous day, he had denied that young ladies 
who had been “ formed,” and had graduated in the 
world’s school of conventional hypocrisy, could 
possess the magic of beauty and innocence — such a 
magic as he had seen in his old tutor’s pretty 
daughter of fifteen. He had spoken of “ the snake 
society’s loud rattle,” and, though he had spoken 
this ironically, as well as Byronically, yet certain 
things that he had witnessed in his many flirting 
tournaments and passages of small talk in society’s 
ball- and drawing-rooms, had induced him to take a 
jaundiced view of the fair ones he met there, and tc 


140 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


disregard all the matrimonial hints of their maternal 
managers. No : he was in no particular hurry ; so 
he would keep his eyes open, and secure a wife to 
his mind. When speaking to Mr. Arlington of his 
tutor’s little daughter, he had told him of his boyish 
love for her, and that he believed he had entertained 
for her a deeper and a truer affection than he had 
ever felt for any other, or, perhaps, ever could 
feel. And here was this loved spirit of his boyish 
days again thrown across his path — all her girl’s 
graces heightened a hundredfold — receiving him 
with kisses and embraces, and innocently pouring 
out her heart to him. What a happy fate had 
brought about this interview ! for, all reserve had 
been thrown aside, and, the conventional mask 
being at once dropped, he had been enabled to view 
the true features of her character. Before him, he 
perceived the jewel of which he had been in search. 
Happy he, if he might only win and wear it ! Yet 
this deceit that he was imposing upon her ; perhaps 
she would hate him for it, and if so — but Sir Charles’ 
mercurial temperament would not allow a very close 
or long inspection of the dark side of silver clouds. 
It was sufficient for the present, to be content with 
the present. Certainly there was the prospect of 







■ 














. 




■ ! 





i 















. 







* 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


141 


the brother, who might, even that next minute, put 
in an appearance, and blow up his castle in the air, 
and cover him with shame. Well ! Sir Charles 
would make the best he could out of an awkward 
business, and ask him to forgive him taking the real 
Captain Smith’s place, “ for the sake of auld lang 
syne.’ 

Such were Sir Charles Chatterton’s thoughts, as 
he watched Miss Fanny Smith bending over her 
small unmusical pupil. 

And what were Mr. Fido’s thoughts, as he picked 
up the biscuits, and gazed upon the bi-tailed phe- 
nomenon ? “Look at her there,’’ thus ran the 
current of his meditations — “ look at her a-sittin 
there with her innocent trousers ! quite a picter she 
is. And look at her hair ! it ain’t every one as can 
let down their back hair in two tails, like hern. She’s 
a regular adwer//sement of the saloobrious effects ot 
Rowland’s Macassar. Ah ! them tails runs in my 
head a great deal too much for my piece of mind. ” 

Just at this moment, the object of Fido’s affec- 
tionate eulogies, who had been wildly assailing the 
keys of the upright cottage in a mode that was 
sufficiently torturing to a musical ear, committed 
upon them a highly-aggravated assault that drew 


142 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


from them the most inharmonious discord, and 
extorted from Sir Charles the inquiry, what on 
earth that horrible noise was called ? 

“ That, Harry ? ” responded the pretty governess, 
whose delicate ears had to put up with assaults of 
this description, and outrages upon accent, pro- 
nunciation, and expression, some few scores of times 
in a day ; il oh ! that is only a scale in A major. ” 

“ A Major ! ” thought Fido, as he eagerly accepted 
the explanation; “a Major; ah! I thought he 
did’nt sound like a private. Now, that’s what I call 
music, that is ! there’s something melodious about 
Harabellar’s touch. Shall I ever forget the day 
when I’d made a pretence to come into the room, 
and heerd her a-playin’ ‘ In my cottage near a wood,’ 
with one finger ? No ; I was struck all of a heap. 
Miss Smith there was obliged to play it with all her 
fingers : my Harabellar did it with one. I must 
stop in the room to look at her. It’s something to 
feel that I am near her, and can watch over her 
like a guardian hangel. I’ll drop the Habernethy’s 
again, and that’ll give me an . excuse for staying. 
That’s a hartful idea, Fido ! you must be in love, 
you must, to hinwent such a scheme as that.” Ac- 
cordingly, the ingenious Fido, as he was placing the 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


143 


plate of biscuits upon the table, contrived to stumble 
against one of the straight-backed chairs, when 
down went the biscuits on the carpet again. 

“ Hallo, my fat friend ! ” cried Sir Charles ; “ you 
here still ? I shall not eat those biscuits, even if you 
succeed in breaking them ; so you are putting your- 
self to a great deal of trouble on my account, and all 
for nothing.” 

“ Oh, sir! dooty’s a pleasure,” replied Fido, 
obsequiously. Nevertheless, he thought within 
himself, with a fat chuckle, “ On his account ! ha, ha! 
poor feller ! he ain’t aware o’ the dodges of love. 
He don’t know what a hinspiration a man feels, 
when the hobject of his affection is wisible to the 
naked eye. Ha ! ” thought Fido, as he again con- 
templated the unmusical pupil ; “ I wish I were able 
to play on the planner ! it would make me more of 
a companion for Harabellar, and we could play 
dooets to each other. I’ll try and get Miss Smith 
to teach me. I think that everyone ought to play 
the pianner ! in fact, it’s quite necessary to be able 
to play the pianner. Nowadays one’s edication ain’t 
complete without it. Ha ! here’s my other victim ! ” 

And Miss Dolly Dot entered the buckram-and- 
backboard reception-room. 











































- 

' 


























































* 

































. 




« 




























-■ 

. \ 




















• . 

* 

, 






I 








- 


* 


















( 










































•v-. 
















✓ 


®{?a»ter £$$. 

“ Oh ! ’tis a service, irksome more 
’Than tugging at the slavish oar: 

Yet such is his task, a dismal truth. 

Who watches o’er the bent of youth, 

And while a paltry stipend earning 
He sows the richest seeds of learning, 

And tills their minds with proper care, 

And sees them their due produce bear; 

No joys, alas ! his toil beguile, 

His own lies fallow all the while.” 

Robert Lloyd. (1760.) 

“ We know what slavery is, and our disasters 
May teach us better to behave when masters.” 

Don Juan , v., 23. 


“I’ll tell her boldly that ’tis she : 
Why would she ashamed, or angry be. 
To be belov’d by me.” — Cowley. 


7 


I 



CHAPTER XII. 


MODEL COPIES. 


OLLY DOT was the 
bearer of a great pile 
of copy-books ; and, 
as she carried them 
across the room, she 
stopped (undercover 
of the noise made by 
the unmusical pupil 
at the front door of 
the upright cottage) 
to whisper a word of warning in Fido’s ear. 

“ Oh, you little wretch ! didn’t I say as you was 
a Don Juan? Ain’t you ashamed of yourself, a 
loiterin’ here, and a castin’ sheep’s eyes at a parlor- 
boarder.” 

“ Sheep’s eyes, eh ! ” puffed the fat youth, as he 
picked up the fallen biscuits ; “ then I suppose I 
may look with them at that little lamb.” 

“ Very well, sir,” responded the offended maiden ; 
11 then I shall take up with my baker, what will 



148 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


receive my infections. ” And she bounced across 
the room. 

“Ha!” thought the philosophic Fido; “that's 
the old cry of wolf. My sheep’s eyes can see 
through that ! ” 

“ If you please, Miss Smith,” said Dolly, “ here 
be the books for you to set the coppers.” 

The young lady bade her put them on the table, 
and then resumed her musical drilling of the bi- 
tailed representative of the awkward squad of play- 
ers. 

Meanwhile, Sir Charles quietly addressed him- 
self to Dolly. “ What ! has that young lady to go 
through that pile of copy-books ? ” 

“ Oh yes, sir ! ” replied Dolly ; “ every day she 
do. And very hard work it is for a young lady as 
has been used to genteel satiety; and many’s the 
time I’ve wished that I could help her, but I never 
got no further than pothooks and hangers. But, 
sir,” continued Dolly, speaking with emphasis, so 
that Fido might hear, and meditate upon what she 
said ; “ I know a very nice young man, a baker, sir, 
who’s took six lessons from a perfessor, and writes 
quite haffluently ; and he’s promised to obstruct me 
in the art, sir ; and, perhaps, some day I may be 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


149 


able to keep his books, and write 1 a nasty nation is 
the thief of crime,’ almost as well as my young la- 
dy do.” And Dolly looked at Fido with eyes full 
of significance. 

A look which made the fat youth think thus — 
“ I said it afore, and I says it again, there’e a crum- 
miness about that baker, as I by no means admire. 
If I don’t put a stopper on his hoven, he’ll be a 
warmin of hisself up to come and pop to Dolly ; 
and, perhaps, in the desperation of the moment, 
she won’t refuse him. Then in course I should be 
obliged to punch his bread-basket ; and I shouldn’t 
like to have to come to blows, for fear I should hurt 
him, or do him some mortal hinjury. This comes of 
the awkwardness of being a Don Juan, and having 
two or three strings to your bow. Egad, perhaps 
between two stools I may hurt the small o’ my back ! 
I think I’d better make all right with Dolly, and 
drop Harabellar. She’ll be a wision of the past ; 
an oasis in this desert : ” (here Fido laid his hand 
upon the expanse of his scarlet waistcoat). “ Fare- 
well, bright wision ! from henceforth your back hair 
and your hinnocent trousers shall be to me as 
dreams. Fido is himself again ! ” Having come to 
which resolution, Fido stalked forth to his own 
pantry. 


150 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Bless me ! ’’ cried Dolly, as she saw Sir Charles 
open one of the copy-books, and dip a pen in the 
ink; ‘‘I hope you ain’t a-going to suppress your 
opinions in them hooks ! Missis is very pertickler, 
sir.” 

“All right, Dolly,” replied Sir Charles; “I am 
merely doing what you wished to do — writing a few 
copies to help her.” 

“ Well, sir, that’s very kind ; and, of course, as 
you’re Miss Smith’s brother, it don’t signify,” said 
Dolly, who thought to herself, — “If he wasn’t, 
would’nt there be a row ! would’nt missis go wild 
with extraction ! ” And then she left the room : 
very likely she went to Fido’s pantry to follow up 
her late advantage. 

Sir Charles turned over the copy-books, and began 
to write on the fly-leaf of one of them. “ What a 
life that poor girl must have led ! ” thought he ; 
“ day after day to have had those hours which ought 
to have been devoted to her own relaxation, made in- 
to hours of torture, with these tuneless pianos and 
stale old copies. 4 Slavery is detestable, ’ says this 
copy ; and yet, with this maxim ever upon our lips, 
we never think of applying it to the white slaves of 
our own land and kindred, and can feel pity only 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


151 


for the black slaves of some Uncle Tom’s cabin, a 
thousand miles away. We ostentatiously parade the 
maxim, and complacently cast it down on our public 
boards, and listen to its golden ring ; and then, 
with the sound of it in their ears, Christian men 
go to their governess-keeping homes, and forget that 
there are white slaves, whose miseries are all the 
greater for being inflicted with honied stings, and 
having patiently to be borne with a smiling face. 
Charity begins at home, they say; and it seems 
often to end there.” 

Sir Charles was just comforting himself with the 
thought that he would emancipate Miss Fanny 
Smith from her present slave-driver, and would, in- 
stead, himself become a most devoted slave to the 
pretty governess — arranging this agreeable plan, be 
fore he had gained the young lady’s consent, or 
knew that her affections were already bestowed else- 
where : — but, it was a part of Sir Charles’ tempera- 
ment, when he had entered a pleasant train of 
thought, to allow himself to be merrily carried on it 
to a delightful terminus, without being hindered by 
being thrust into any sidings of doubt or difficulty ; 
• — Sir Charles, I say, had been solacing himself with 
these emancipatory thoughts, when Miss Fanny dis- 


152 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


missed her little pupil, with a “ There, dear ; that 
will do for this morning. You can now go and 
play.” To which proposition of the exchange of 
one kind of play for another, the bi-tailed pheno- 
menon cheerfully acceded, and forthwith descending 
from her perch in front of the upright cottage, 
betook herself to the door of the buckram-and- 
backboard reception-room, — there executed that 
acquired refinement of £t polite society ” insisted 
upon by Mrs. Clapperclaw, and taught by Monsieur 
de Jones, as the proper manner of leaving a room, 
— and then vanished. 

“ And now, Harry, that we are quite alone, I can 
come and talk to you again,” said Miss Fanny Smith, 
as she came to Sir Charles, and, throwing her arm 
round his neck, bent down and gave him a kiss ; and 
thus doing, perceived that he had been writing on 
the fly-leaf of one of the copy-books. “ Whatever 
have you been doing ? ” she asked. 

“ Suggesting one or two copies ; very appropriate 
ones, too, I flatter myself,” replied Sir Charles, as 
he proceeded to read what he had written : — 1 All 
work and no play , is the Governess's life from day 
to day * That’s true enough, isn’t it? Here is 
another: — ‘ Necessity is the mother of Governess - 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


153 


es And, here comes a nice home-truth for Mrs. 
Clapperclaw, expressed arithmetically ; — c Multi- 
plication of Lessons , Addition of Labor , Division 
of Duties , and Practice at a cracked Piano , form 
the Ride of Three Inverse for the Reduction of 
Health .’ — Now there’s something to be learnt 
from such copies as these.’’ 

Doubtless, there was : but still, it would never 
do for Mrs. Clapperclaw to see it ; so, Miss Fanny 
must cut out the leaf. Sir Charles said that she 
had much better cut her, and take her leave of the 
house. Should she like to do so ? 

“ I should, Harry,” replied the young lady; and 
I am glad to tell you, that I have a chance of taking 
a very nice situation, where I shall be very, very 
happy.” 

Thought Sir Charles, “ She could’nt say more, if 
I had proposed to her ! — But where is it to be ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Close by here ; at the Hall, with Lady Linton. 
She is aunt to Sir Charles Chatterton.” 

“ I should rather think she was,” thought that in- 
dividual. This is lucky, indeed. I wonder I did’nt 
hear something about it.” 

“ Her German governess,” continued Miss Fanny, 
7 * 


154 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ has been obliged to return to her own country, on 
account of the serious illness of her mother. If she 
should be unable to come back, I am to take her 
place. Lady Linton promised to write to me as 
soon as she received ma’amselle’s answer. This 
will probably be either to-day or to-morrow. If her 
note should come to-day, and its contents should be 
as I wish, then indeed I shall be happy ; thus to be 
provided with such a comfortable home, on the same 
day that has restored to me my long-absent brother. 
It will be a real home to me ; for, Lady Linton has 
always shown to me the greatest kindness, and I 
love her as a second mother.” 

“ Bravo, auntie ! ” thought Sir Charles; “ and I 
will love her doubly for the same reason. But this 
speaks volumes in favor of Miss Fanny. And,” 
asked Sir Charles, “ what does Mrs. Clapperclaw say 
to this ? ” 

“ Why, she cannot refuse anything to Lady Lin- 
ton, because she is the great lady of the neighborhood, 
and her influence is useful in recommending the 
school.” 

“ A most all-sufficient reason,” replied Sir Charles. 
“ And now, I have something to relate to you. Bear 
with me as kindly as you can, while you listen to 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


155 


what I have to say. I — that is — it was only yes- 
terday, when — ” 

But, while the fluent Sir Charles was thus hesi- 
tating, and breaking down at the very threshold of 
his narrative, and was stumbling among his sen- 
tences, in that intoxicated manner peculiar to after- 
dinner orators who are unaccustomed to public 
speaking, he was interrupted by a loud rat-ta-tat-tat 
at the front-door of Minerva House. 











































1 







































































































■ 













































































- 





































































fill. 


“ • Whence is that knocking ? 

How is’t with me, when every noise appals me?” 

Macbeth , Act n., Sc. 2. 

“ Here is now the smith’s note.” 

King Henry IV., Part II., V., 1 

“ The clodded earth goes up in sweet- breathed flowers : 

In music dies poor human speech ; 

And into beauty die those hearts of ours. 

When love is born in each. 

Life is transfigured in the soft and tender 
Light of Love, as a volume dun 
Of rolling smoke becomes a wreathed splendor 
In the declining sun.” 

Alexander Smith’s Life Drama. 



- 



- 





CHAPTER XIII. 


MURDER WILL OUT. 

H E brother ! ” thought Sir 
Charles, when he heard the knock. 
“ The note ! ” said Miss Fanny. 
She was right ; for Dolly Dot 
entered with a letter, which she 
handed to the young lady, saying, “ If you please, 
Miss Fanny, Lady Linton’s footman have brought 
this billey-do.” 

While Miss Fanny Smith opened the envelope, 
and went towards the window to read the note, 
Dolly opened her mind to Sir Charles. “ Oh, sir ! 
such a gentleman it were as brought that letter ! 
with the reddest and plushiest of br — sit-upons, sir ; 
and such beautiful whiskers, curled with such a hair, 
sir ; he must put ’em in papers every night, I’m 
certain. He’s as big as a mountain ; and yet, up 
at the Hall, they calls him a valley. There’s a little 
nephew of mine as is there, sir ; and they calls him 
a tiger ; and yet, he is as harmless as a cat, and 
wouldn’t so much as hurt a mouse. But, some 
people does make such a profusion in names, there’s 



160 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


no knowing what they means.” And away went 
Miss Dolly. 

Fanny Smith had read the letter. u Oh ! Harry,” 
she said, “lam disappointed in my hopes ! and my 
castles in the air are quite thrown down. Lady 
Linton writes to say, that her old governess is re- 
turning to her. And yet, I ought to feel glad that 
her mother’s recovery enables her to do so — I, who 
know how bitter a thing it is to be deprived of a 
mother’s love. So now, Harry dear, I shall return 
cheerfully to my old governess’ life with Mrs. Clap- 
perclaw.” 

She said this with forced gaiety ; but Sir Charles 
saw through the thin veil of her deceit. It gave 
him a sudden impulse to throw aside his own. “ Not 
so, noble, generous-hearted girl ! ” he cried, warmly ; 
“ never, while I can help it, shall you go back to 
this drudgery. My heart is yours ; oh ! let me call 
you mistress of my home and fortune also.” 

“ What — what is this — brother ? ” she faltered. 

“ Brother no longer, lady. Taking advantage of 
your mistake, I have hitherto imposed upon you.” 

“ Oh, heavens ? — not my brother ! And I — ” 
She blushed scarlet ; then paled again, and, with 
trembling, asked, — “ Is this true, sir ? ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


161 


“ Alas ! with shame I confess that it is too true.” 

“ Oh, but you bring me news of him ! He’s ill ! 
— he has sent you here to tell me so ! Oh ! speak, 
and tell me all — why do you hesitate ? I’m strong, 
and can bear the blow ! ” There was a wildness in 
her agitation, that made Sir Charles, in his turn, 
the trembler. 

“ For aught I know he is well, and will soon be 
here,” was his reply : “ I know nothing of his move- 
ments but what I have heard since I entered this 
house. I have not seen him for years. Yet, I was 
once his friend, and yours also.” 

She started, and looked earnestly at him but did 
not speak. 

“ We have changed too much since then, for 
mutual recognition. But, I am that Sir Charles 
Chatterton, of whom you spoke ; the companion of 
your early years ; the old playfellow of him whoso 
character I have for a short time assumed; the 
pupil of the good old rector, your father ; he for 
whom your mother prayed with her last words.” 

The young lady had sunk upon a chair, and was 
burying her face in her trembling hands, while hot 
tears coursed down her burning cheeks. There 
was a pause. “ By your own confession,” sh6 at 


162 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


length faltered, “ you have deceived me once ; how 
am I to know that you are not now imposing upon 
me?” 

“ By this token, ” replied Sir Charles. “When, 
some six years ago, we met for the last time, in the 
old summer-house, beneath the spreading beech-tree 
in the rectory garden, you gave me, as a parting 
gift, a small cornelian heart, which hung from a 
ribbon upon your neck. We had loved each other 
as boys and girls will love — passionately but briefly 

— like a flood that sweeps on all before it, and then 
sinks to nothing. When the moment for our sepa- 
ration came, you wept, and hung around me ; and, 
child-like, said that you would always love me, and 
would be no one’s wife but mine. I, doubtless, 
made vows to the same effect. Then we parted. 
Shall I confess, that in one brief fortnight, I had 
found another boyish love, — and then another ; and 
so on, till the present time ; each one snowing out 
the impression of the last. And yet, though our 
paths in life had divided, though I had seen no 
more of you, and had altogether lost sight of you, 

— and though I perhaps but little expected to meet 
you again, unless it was to encounter you in after 
years as the wife of another, — yet, for all this. I 



The Confession. — ( See page 164 .) 




NEARER AND DEARER. 


163 


have still, in a measure, been true to my first love : 
I have ever preserved vivid impressions of those rec- 
tory days ; I have never met with any one who has 
thoroughly succeeded in effacing your image from 
my mind, your love from my heart. The feelings 
of my first love ever returned with freshness and 
strength, when the fleeting fancies of later attach- 
ments had quite passed away. See here is the 
cornelian heart ; it has never left me.” And Sir 
Charles, showed it, hanging to a small ring attached 
to the breguet chain of his watch. 

She saw it through her tears ; and knew that he 
spoke the truth. Her brain throbbed with crowd- 
ing memories of the past ; and her heart was full 
of conflicting emotions. She could not speak. 

“ For the sake of those old days,” pleaded Sir 
Charles, “ and for the sake of your parents, forgive 
me this wrong. It was but the frolic of the moment, 
and was not meant to pain you ; but my thought- 
lessness carried me on too far. Two days’ ago I 
came to my aunt’s, your friend and second mother 
as you termed her ; there I made a foolish wager 
with a friend ; and this it was that brought me here. 
I was altogether ignorant of the house, and of its 
inmates. Chance — nay, rather, my good angel — 


164 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


sent you to meet me ; and your brother’s long 
absence, and his expected return, enabled me to 
play successfully the character that has deceived 
you. I have given you cause to despise me. My 
reckless folly would be justly punished if you dis- 
missed me with scorn from your presence. But I 
love you dearest Fanny. I love you not as I did 
when a boy, but with the deeper feelings of the 
man ; of one, too, who has long been seeking for 
such a love as yours, and who, now, by this over- 
ruling power of events, is enabled to come to you 
and ask you to redeem your girlish vows.” He 
paused for a moment ; and then, in a faltering 
voice said, “I scarcely dare to ask if you are 
already betrothed to another ? ” 

She shook her head, but did not look up, or 
speak ; still burying her face in her hands ; still 
•weeping, but less bitterly than before. 

“ Thank heaven for that ! ” said Sir Charles. “ I 
grieve to see your tears. I blush for my own folly, 
which has tried you so cruelly. I can now view it 
in its proper light ; would that I had done so in 
the very first beginning of our interview ! But it is 
my nature thus to be led on by present pleasure, 
and to put away the evil moment so long as it may 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


165 


be thrust aside. Let me say again, that I love you. 
Oh, think of the past days, and-all our early friend- 
ship ; and pardon me for what I have now done ! 
And, to prove your pardon, give me a word of 
hope — say that you will return my love.’’ 

u My gratitude you have, Sir Charles,” replied 
the young lady, drying her tears ; “the son of Sir 
Christopher Chatterton would ever command that. 
But — love ? You forget, Sir Charles, that I am poor, 
and a governess. ” 

“I forget nothing,” responded Sir Charles, warm 

ly ; “ I remember only that you were my first love, 

and that you loved me more truly than I have ever 

since been loved ; even as I — I swear it — loved 

you more truly than I have ever since loved another. 

I remember only this, and that you are the sister of 

the friend of my boyhood, and the daughter of my 
» * 
honored tutor, to whom I owe so much. Too 

long have I lost sight of the obligation ; time has 

but increased the debt. Let me pay it off now, and 

for my receipt, take you. Let me take yourself, 

and let the acknowledgment be signed in the 

marriage register. You gave me your heart as a 

little girl, and you see I have cherished the token. 

Now I ask you to give me the reality. ” 


166 * 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Oh, Sir Charles ! it was ungenerous in you to 
take advantage of my unguarded confidence. The 
love of a sister should have been sacred.” 

‘•'And yet, let not the thoughtless folly of a 
moment cloud the happiness of years. From the 
first, your frank and open affection won upon me. 
I saw that the charming child of my first love had 
grown up with all her girlish graces and truthful 
simplicity — a most refreshing contrast to those 
schemers of society among whom I had been thrown. 
As our interview proceeded, the noble qualities of 
your mind, no less than your honest candor and 
artless affection, gained my admiration and esteem ; 
and, when conscience told me that I was acting 
wrongly, Cupid whispered — your deceit is pardoned ; 
for it has shown you the priceless treasure of a loving 
heart. ” 

“ If you esteem me, Sir Charles, ” she replied, 
“ you will best show that esteem, by leaving me. 
My true brother must soon be here, and will thank 
you for the obligations that we owe to you. And 
now, pray leave me to myself, and to my duties. ” 
She rose from her chair, and awaited his departure. 

Sir Charles also rose, “ I will leave you,” he said ; 
f ‘ but I must take with me either happiness or 
misery.” 



“ Cel. — Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into 
so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son ? 

Ros. — The Duke my father loved his father dearly. 

Cel. — Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son 
dearly ? ” 

As You Like It> Act I. Sc. 3. 

“It’s but a folly to lie; for, to speak one thing, and to think 
just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row 
another. Now, for my part, d’ye see, I’m for carrying things 
above-board; I’m not for keeping anything under hatches; so that 
if you ben’t so willing as I, say so; there’s no harm done, may- 
hap, you may be shame-faced ; some maidens, though they love a 
man well enough, yet they don’ t care to tell’n so to’s face. If that’s 
the case, y^iy silence gives consent.” 

Congreve. {Love for Love.) 


See p. 171 


CHAPTER XIV. 


LOVE FOR LOVE. 

HEN Fanny heard Sir Charles’s 
words, she turned towards the piano- 
forte with a gesture that bade him 
go ; for, a choking sensation in her 
throat prevented her speaking. 

Her surprise, shame, and sorrow had now passed 
away : a hundred sweet memories of bygone days 
had trooped pleasantly through her brain chasing 
each other with playful fancies. Her girlish love 
for Sir Charles had been too deep to be easily 
erased from a heart like hers. Situated as she had 
been, shut out from society, and imprisoned in the 
formalities of Minerva House, there had been but 
little opportunity for her, even had she wished for 
it, to build up a new affection on the firm founda- 
tion of that old one. It had been the brightest 
incident in the happiest time of her life; and no 
wonder that she had over and over again reviewed 
its several parts, and cheered her solitary moments 
with a glance at its pure pleasures — pleasures, 
which she had fancied were gone never to be 
8 



170 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


recalled. Poor girl ! her lot in life was somewhat 
of a hard one. A friendless orphan, with an only 
brother in a distant land, and she herself barely 
earning her board as a school-governess, with no 
companion of her own years, — with only the occa- 
sional kind companionship of Lady Linton to cheer 
her — how could she do otherwise than turn her 
thoughts in secret to those happy days of girlhood, 
when she had first tasted of the sweets of love, and 
wot not of the after bitterness its fruit will bring ! 
How she would ponder over the memories of that 
time ! it’s every day was linked to some recollection, 
on which she could dwell with tender thought and 
tearful musing. As one who grieves for his dead 
betrothed, and calls her to fancied life again, by all 
those sweet tokens of treasured relics — letters worn 
by age and frequent reading, rings that had once 
graced her hand, withered flowers that had once 
nestled upon her breast, a lock of sunny hair that 
had once pressed upon her cheek — as one who gazes 
upon these priceless treasures, and feels a happiness 
by so doing — so would this poor orphaned governess 
solace her lonely hours by conning over* such trea 
sures of thought as God had given to her. Thus her 
girlish love had never been forgotten ; memory had 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


171 


cleared it of its imperfections, and had invested it 
with a double grace, nay, had even added some- 
what to its strength. The sight of that little cor- 
nelian heart ; the presence of the very object of her 
early love — his words and protestations — her own 
innocent reception of him, which was not very un- 
like her receptiou of him in olden days — all this 
combined to make her feel that she was waking 
from dreams to realities. 

“ I love you, dearest Fanny,” said Sir Charles, 
and his manner and tone did not belie his words, — 
“ I love you deeply and sincerely, and would link 
my love through life with yours. 0 say that you 
will be mine.” He caught her impulsively by the 
hand, which she endeavored to withdraw. “ Do 
not withdraw your hand,” he went on, impetuously, 
“ let me keep it, Fanny, and claim it as my own ; 
and, when your real brother does come, let me be 
introduced to him as a brother still ; not his brother, 
by kin, but his brother-in-law, and your affianced 
husband.” 

Her hand trembled within the clasp of his ; but 
she now suffered it to remain there. If she was 
assured of Sir Charles’s love to her — and had he 
not assured her of it, and was she not convinced 


172 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


that he spoke the truth — why should she hesitate 
to accept it ? She well knew her own feelings to- 
wards him ; they had not wanted any reviving, for 
she had ever kept them fresh and pure ; and, 
though she had always, even in her inmost thoughts, 
remembered the love that had once been between 
herself and Sir Charles but as a thing of the past — 
a dream of early days that must be put aside amid 
the stern realities of after life, or only recalled as a 
sweet illusion among present bitter facts — though in 
her wildest dream, she would never have anticipated 
what had now come to pass so unexpectedly and sud- 
denly — though in the perfect purity of her maiden 
soul, she had never looked upon the image of her 
early love enshrined there within her heart, with 
other eyes than with those sincere ones of her girlish 
days — yet, there were her feelings for him still 
cherished within her bosom ; and there was that 
steady little flame of love which had been the one 
bright sparkle upon her clouded altar of duty, which 
only needed the breath of his lips to fan it to a 
brighter glow, and a consuming heat. That breath 
had come. His words had kindled the flame ; and 
it now leapt up within her, with a tongue of fire that 
warmed her very soul, and cheered her with such a 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


173 


light as she had never yet experienced. She felt as 
one, who, half-awake from some ecstatic dream, 
refrains from motion, and almost from thought — 
least the bright vision should on a sudden vanish. 
So she stood, and suffered her hand passively to 
remain in that of Sir Charles. 

He took courage at the sign, accepting it as a 
good omen, that came like sunshine after the storm. 
The weathercock of his mercurial disposition would 
change from gay to grave, and would vibrate back 
again from grave to gay, with the slightest breath 
of emotion, or faintest gale of feeling. He was a 
creature of the moment : so, when he accepted the 
slight token as a signal that his suit would not be 
rejected, he at once galloped on gaily to the wished- 
for termination to the whole interview, and rattled 
out his thoughts with railway speed, somewhat after 
this fashion, “ There, that’s more friendly. And so, 
your brother will soon be here, and can be properly 
introduced to his old companion in the guise of a 
new relative. And then, dearest, until the happy 
day comes that will see you my bride, you shall go 
and stay at the Hall with my worthy aunt — for I 
know she’ll be delighted to find that I am going to 
settle down, and marry her little favorite — and I 


174 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


wouldn’t have you stay in this gaol of a boarding- 
school one day longer than you can possibly help — 
and then I’ll rush up to town and get you all the 
pretty things I can think of — and the jewellers 
shall send you all their treasures — and you shall 
come and see Chatterton Manor, and tell me how 
you’d like the rooms refurnished. I think we 
shall have to build new conservatories ! the present 
ones are terribly out of condition — and then, why, 
then we’ll be married, Fanny, and ask old mother 
Clapperclaw to the breakfast ! No, shall we ask 
her, though ? ” 

If Fanny had ever purposed making either a 
haughty or impressive reply to any “ proposal '’with 
which she might be favored, her purpose would 
most assuredly have been altered by such a speech 
as this. She was amused by it, and she did not 
conceal her feelings ; so she said with a smile, 
£ ‘ Doubtless you can make very pleasant arrange- 
ments, Sir Charles ; but, that they may be quite 
perfect, I think it is necessary for you to first gain 
the lady’s consent.” 

“ I’ faith, I had almost forgotten that ; but you 
will give me your consent, will you not? Say, 
dearest Fanny, that you will be mine ! Say, at 
least, that you love me ! ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


175 


She did not speak. Perhaps it was maiden 
modesty that held her tongue. She was too little 
versed in the cold, artificial laws of society to be 
restrained by any of its conventionalities ; and her 
heart told her that she did love him. Why, then, 
did she not at onee confess the truth ? Simply, 
because she remembered her own poverty and 
dependent position, and Sir Charles’ wealth and 
high station. If she accepted his offer, would it 
not seem (she thought) that she took him for his 
riches? She could not at once answer so im- 
portant a question ; therefore she kept silence. 

Which the volatile Sir Charles translated after 
his own fashion. “ Silence gives consent ; 0, ye gods 
and little fishes, now I’m a happy man ! Just now 
you gave me a brother’s kiss ; I wonder if a lover’s 
has the same sweetness ! ” 

And so — 

“ He to lips that fondly falter. 

Presses his without reproof; ” 

and while he was thus saluting the but-half-resisting 
young lady, the door opened, and Mrs. Clapperclaw, 
with stately step and starchy figure, re-entered the 
buckram -and-backboard reception-room. 



























. 






















' 


































\ 








































































* 







































Chapter P). 

“This may be modern modesty; but I never saw anythin 
look so like old-fashioned impudence.” 

Goldsmith. (She Stoops to Conquer.) 

“ Mark his condition, and the event; then tell me 
If this might be a brother.” 


Tempest , Act I, Sc. 2. 



See page 182 , 


CHAPTER XV. 


SIMON PURE. 

LESS me ! ” cried Mrs. Clapper- 
claw, making interjectional move- 
ments with her black-kid ventilators 
— “ Bless me ! I left Miss Smith 
kissing her brother, and I find her 
still engaged in the same occupation.’’ 

The Great Moral Engine steamed forward, drawing 
her shawl around her, and draping it over her well- 
worn black silk in sharp, angular folds. A bene- 
volent expression lighted up her kippered-salmon 
features, and beamed through her owl-like spec- 
tacles. “ Well, young people,” she said, “ though 
I am not an advocate of that constant osculatory 
practice in which you seem to pass so much of 
your time, I am yet thankful to see that the sym- 
pathies of a young lady who has lately lived 
so much under my own immediate and watch- 
ful care, are of such a high order. But I must 
request you, Miss Smith, to forsake these pleasures 
for a few moments, and inform yourself, from your 
own personal observation, whether or no the caiis- 



180 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


thenic class are properly engaged with their dumb- 
bell and Indian-spear exercise .’ 7 And the corkscrew 
ringlets of Mrs. Clapperclaw’s black wig quivered 
from beneath her head-dress made of dark stiff 
materials, whose two pendent square- cut Egyptian 
streamers fell upon the capacious bosom that throbbed 
with a very Pacific Ocean of sympathy. 

Fanny hailed the arrival of the Great Moral 
Engine with heartfelt gratitude. The interruption 
was a very welcome one to her. It gave her time 
for thought, and prevented her agitation from 
betraying her ; and it enabled her, too, to regain her 
self-command, and to calm the wild pleasure that 
filled her heart ; for she felt that she did love him. 
With blushes still burning her cheeks, and not 
daring to venture a glance at Sir Charles, she 
readily obeyed Mrs. Clapperclaw 7 s behest, and left 
the room. 

“You must excuse me for the remark, Captain 
Smith,” said the Great Moral Engine, seating herself 
stiffly upon one of the hard-seated upright-backed 
chairs, and with a motion of the black-kid venti- 
lators inviting Sir Charles to follow her example ; 
“ you must excuse me for the remark — and, indeed, 
I should not make it if I were not a woman of large 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


181 


sympathies myself, and delighted to behold the 
sympathies of others — but I have rarely seen a 
brother show to his sister such a large amount of 
attentive sympathy as you have done, Captain 
Smith.” 

“Iam happy to think, Mrs. Clapperclaw,” replied 
Sir Charles, il that my conduct in this particular has 
been such as to merit your approbation, and, I 
trust, that of the young lady also. But with regard 
to my being her brother, I will, with your permission 
Mrs. Clapperclaw, a tale unfold.” 

The Great Moral Engine had given him a grand 
Siddons-like bend of the head ; Sir Charles was 
twirling his moustache, and looking round at the 
problematic wall-paper, and the smudgy obscurities 
in their leather frames, with the apparent hope that 
they would prompt him to the introductory sentences 
of his confession, when — 

When there came a sharp, soldier-like double- 
knock at the front door of Minerva House, the 
sound of which electrified the pseudo Captain Smith, 
and informed him in unmistakable language that 
the real Simon Pure had arrived. 

Mrs. Clapperclaw had immediately risen from her 
upright-backed chair and had called to Fido to 


182 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


answer the door, and, if visitors, to show them into 
that room. “ This is my reception room, Captain 
Smith,” she said, as she returned to her seat. 

“ .Deception room, I think,” said Sir Charles to 
himself ; “ and I must use it for that purpose a little 
longer, if, as I guess, that knock prefaces the arri- 
val of Simon Pure.” 

“ Excuse the interruption,” observed Mrs. Clapper- 
claw ; “ you were remarking that — 

“ It’s another gent after Miss Smith, mam ! ” said 
Fido mysteriously looking in at the door. “ Is he to 
be took in ? ” 

“ Certainly ? ” Fido vanishes. 

“ Your sister,” Mrs. Clapperclaw said, “ is finding 
all her friends to-day, Captain Smith.” 

“ Captain Smith ! ” cried Fido, like a fat echo, 
ushering into the room a tall military-looking young 
man, handsome, light-haired (though without a mous- 
tache), and with a face bronzed by exposure to the 
hot glare of an eastern sun. 

Bless me ? ” cried Mrs. Clapperclaw, confiden- 
tially to Sir Charles; ‘‘two Captain Smiths! but, 
the name is — excuse me — a not uncommon one. 
Doubtless he is come to place a daughter under my 
care.” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


183 


Simon Pure advanced with a military stride, and 
bowing to Mrs. Clapperclaw, announced the object 
of his visit. 11 I have called, madam, to see my 
sister.” 

“ Your sister, sir ! ” gasped the Great Moral En- 
gine. 

“ My sister Fanny, madam ; Miss Smith.” 

“ Delightful ! ” thought Sir Charles, as he watched 
Mrs. Clapperclaw’s perplexity, “ I will keep up the 
joke a little.” 

“ Allow me to say, sir,” observed the Great Moral 
Engine, with a lofty air, “ that you must be labor- 
ing under some singular misapprehension.” 

“ Misapprehension ! ” said Simon Pure, also look- 
ing perplexed. “ I was informed that this was Miner- 
ya House, and I certainly am under the impression 
that I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Clapper- 
claw.” 

“You are right so far, sir ; I am Mrs. Clapper- 
claw, and thi3 is Minerva House. But, as to your 
sister, you are under some delusion. There is but 
one Miss Fanny Smith in my establishment, and she 
— is my governess.” And the Great Moral Engine 
caressed her wrists with the black-kid ventilators, in 
a very determined manner. 


184 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ She is your governess, at present, madam,” re- 
plied Simon Pure ; “ but no longer to remain so. I 
have returned, enriched and prosperous, to bear her 
to a new home, and to the station she was born 
to fill.” 

“ Then, sir,” gasped Mrs. Clapperclaw, as a new 
light dawned upon her ; “ are you — do you love her ? ” 

11 Love her ? yes ! with all my heart and soul.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! ” and a shade of displeasure crossed 
Mrs. Clapperclaw’s kippered-salmon face ; “ I think 
I might have been informed of this secret attach- 
ment.” 

“ Secret, madam ! ” cried Simon Pure. “ Why 
surely you may have guessed it. It is nothing more 
than is natural, is it ? ” 

“ Ah ! true,” sighed Mrs. Clapperclaw, as she 
thought of a time when the late lamented Mr. C. 
had come to her in all the pride of his youth, and 
the possession of a flourishing business in the tallow 
trade, and had spoken to her words that had called 
forth feelings in her breast which had seemed to 
her very natural indeed ; “ Ah ! true.” And the 

Great Moral Engine felt herself a girl again. 

“ I trust you do not imagine,” said Simon Pure, 
with a smile, “ that, though I have not seen her for 



The Plot Discovered.— (See page 195.) 













- 
























' 

/ - 












NEARER AND DEARER. 


185 


some years, I should ever lose any of my affection 
for my sister.” 

“ Your sister ! ” cried Mrs. Clapperclaw — again 
the woman, and the head of Minerva House — “do 
you mean to assert, sir, that you are the brother of 
my governess, Miss Fanny Smith ? ” 

“ Such is my great happiness, madam,” replied 
Simon Pure, again beginning to look perplexed. 

“ Then, sir,” went on Mrs. Clapperclaw, with a 
sneer; “ I suppose that you will also wish me to 
believe that you are the brother of this gentle- 
man ? ” And she waved a black-kid ventilator to- 
wards Sir Charles. 

To whom Simon Pure turned with a scrutinising 
glance, as he replied, “ Nature has not given me the 
pleasure, madam, so far as I am aware, of being 
in any way related to that gentleman — much more 
his brother.” 

“ Then, sir,” steamed out the Great Moral Engine, 
who could no longer repress her boiling wrath, and 
found the readiest vent for it in hissing words ; 
“ then, sir, how dare you come to an honest house 
with your vile falsehoods and fictitious name ? Do 
you suppose, sir, that my academy has no reputa- 
tion to lose, that you can come here with impunity, 
and demand interviews with its young ladies ? ” 


186 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ I cannot understand you, madam ; surely a 
brother can see his sister even at a boarding-school, 
and though she be its governess ? ” 

“ Brother, indeed ! ” sneered Mrs. Clapperclaw ; 
“ it is fortunate that this gentleman is on the spot, to 
convict you of your gross imposition. But I will 
not waste more words with you ; and, you may 
ascribe it to my tender sympathies, if you do not 
have to answer for this most atrocious insult before 
a special jury of your countrymen.” She had rung 
the bell as she said this ; and Fido had now an- 
swered its summons ; “ Fido, show this person to 
the door ! ” And the Great Moral Engine again 
sternly embraced her wrists with her black-kid ven- 
tilators, and breathed defiance at her visitor. 

He seemed very much puzzled to know what to 
do, or what to make of all this, and looked to 
Mrs. Clapperclaw for an explanation, but none was 
vouchsafed to him. Failing in this quarter he 
turned to Sir Charles Chatterton, who was, appa- 
rently, too much engaged in tracing out problems on 
the Euclid-like wall-paper, to attend to anything 
else. Fido looked on sleepily and fatly. 

“ Excuse me, Mrs. Clapperclaw,” at length said 
Captain Smith, “ but I do not leave this room until I 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


187 


have seen my sister. If I had not been aware that 
this was a boarding-school for young ladies, I should 
have concluded, from first appearances, that it was a 
lunatic asylum, and this gentleman the keeper.” 

The Great Moral Engine put up her steam at 
this. “ I appeal to you, sir,” she said, turning to Sir 
Charles, “ to protect me from insult. To you, sir! 
the real Captain Smith, and the rightful brother of 
my governess.” 

Simon Pure also turned to Sir Charles. “ Do you 
mean to assert, sir,” he asked, “ that YOU are the Cap- 
tain Smith, who is the brother to Miss Fanny Smith, 
a governess in this school ? ” 

“ You heard, sir,” replied Sir Charles, who was un- 
able to resist carrying on the joke as far as it would 
harmlessly go — “ you heard, sir, what this very re- 
spectable lady said ; and surely you will believe her.” 

“ Why then, sir,” cried Simon Pure, fairly bewil- 
dered ; “ why then, in the name of wonder, sir, who 
the deuce am I? ” 

“ That, sir, is best known to yourself,” quietly 
answered Sir Charles. 

11 Do not excite yourself at the shameless way in 
which this man is seeking to pass himself off as you, 
Captain Smith,” said Mrs. Clapperclaw to Sir 


188 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Charles; “for the wretched being is evidently in 
liquor, unless — oh ! horrible suspicion — unless he 
is an escaped lunatic ! ” 

“ Don’t be afear’d, mum ! ” observed Fido, con- 
fidentially, “ I’ll fix him with my eye, and he’ll soon 
be subdued. They can’t abide the steady gaze of 
intellectual hoptics.” Upon which, the fat youth 
stared fixedly at Simon Pure. 

“ I almost doubt the evidence of my senses,” said 
that bewildered individual. “ First, I am told that 
I am not myself, but an impostor personating my- 
self ; and then, that I am a drunkard and a lunatic. 
What on earth, madam — what the deuce, sir — does 
all this mean ? ” 

“ It means, sir,” replied Mrs. Clapperclaw, “ that 
the sooner you leave this pure-minded, and virtuously- 
conducted academy, the better, sir ! ” 

“ It means, sir,” said Sir Charles, “ that there has 
been a great mistake somewhere, sir ; and that the 
sooner it is all explained, sir, it will be the better 
for all parties, sir ! ” 

“ It means, young man,” said Fido, “ that you’d 
better hook it while you’re able, young man ! ” 

“Now, sir! ’’asked Mrs. Clapperclaw, “ arc you 
going ? ” and her black-kid ventilators caressed her 
wrists in a far more amiable way. 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


189 


“ I am going — to stay ! ” replied Simon Pure, in 
a very decided tone. “ I have come here for the 
express purpose of seeing Fanny, and taking her 
away ; and I shall not leave here but in her company.’’ 

“ 0 you wretched profligate ! ” cried Mrs. Clapper- 
claw ; “if you are not utterly hardened in depravity, 
leave this house, before the policeman compels you 
to do so. Fido ! show this miserable being to the 
door. If necessary, Fido, use physical force ! ” 

“ I will, mum ! I’ll get the steam up,” replied 
Fido ; who began to beat his arms after the manner 
of out-of-door laborers on a cold winter’s morning, 
and to turn up the cuffs of his coat in a most demon- 
strative way. 

“ Really, this is too absurd,” said Simon Pure. 
“ I tell you, madam, once and for all, that, whoever 
this gentleman may be, I, and I only, am the 
brother of Miss Fanny Smith, your governess.” 

“It is useless,”' replied Mrs. Clapperclaw, with 
an air as who should say, I have heard quite suf- 
ficient, and this interview must not be prolonged, 
“ it is useless to waste more words. I have sufficient 
evidence to the contrary. Fido, fulfil my orders.” 

“ Come, young man ! hook it,” said the fat youth. 
“ There’s the door, and here’s me ! I’m a lamb out- 


190 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


wardly, but, I’m a lion when I’m roused ; so, you’d 
better give in at once, and come away easy.” 

Simon Pure walked quietly to the door that was 
held open for him by Fido, and deliberately seized 
the unfortunate fat youth by the gold collar of his 
invisible-green coat, twisting him round until the 
short tails of the coat were presented to his view. 
He then, as deliberately, applied his foot to the 
close neighborhood of those coat-tails, and pro- 
pelled Mr. Fido headlong into the hall, to the 
intense delight of Sir Charles Chatterton, and the 
mingled disgust, horror, and alarm of the Great 
Moral Engine, who turned to Sir Charles, and 
appealing to him with her black-kid ventilators, 
said, 11 Really, Captain Smith, I ask you, as a gentle- 
man and an officer of the army, am I to have my 
sympathies and my servants outraged in this shock- 
ing manner? I ask you, sir, am I ? ” 

And Mrs. Clapperclaw resumed her seat, and, 
like parliamentary orators, paused for a reply. 


(®[jajjter 



“ My lord, so please you, these things further thought on. 
To think me as well a sister as a wife, 

One day shall crown the alliance on’t.” 

Twelfth JVight, Act V. Sc. 1. 

** The first time that I ever saw him, 

Methought he was a brother.” 

As You Like It, Act V, Sc. 4 

“ Would you desire better sympathy ? ” 

Me^-y Wives Windsor , Act II. Sc. 1 


V 




t 


See page \ 96 . 



/ 



CHAPTER XVI. 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 



HEN Simon Pure forcibly project- 
ed ed Eido into the hall of Minerva 


House, lie followed up his propelling 
kick by these words of friendly ad- 
vice and warning: “Take that. 


And, perhaps, it will assist you in remembering that 
Captain Smith knows how to punish an imperti- 
nence.” 

He spoke loudly, for he was excited ; and his 
words were carried to the ears of Miss Fanny Smith, 
who had completed her duties with the calisthenic 
class, and was returning to the buckram-and-back- 
board reception-room. She at once knew that her 
brother had arrived ; and, forgetting all else in the 
joy of that long-looked-for moment, she ran quickly 
along the hall, and found her brother just turning 
his back upon the hapless Fido, in order that he 
might once more encounter the Great Moral Engine. 
She knew him at once, despite his bronzed face ; far 
its features and expression had altered but little 
since she had last seen him ; and, though there 


9 


194 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


■were certain points of resemblance between him and 
Sir Charles, she could now perceive that when they 
were placed face to face, there was but little simi- 
larity of features? 

Like as she had rushed into the arms of Sir 
Charles, so now she ran to her brother’s embrace, 
crying, u Oh, my dear, dear brother ! Come at last 
to your own fond sister.” 

“ Now the plot is discovered ! ” thought Sir 
Charles. J Terrific denouement , and grand tableau ! ’ 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Clapperclaw looked on, her 
capacious bosom lashed into a very storm of virtuous 
indignation. “ Gracious powers ! Miss Smith em- 
braces every gentleman she sees ! Can the force of 
shamelessness go further than this ! ” 

“ Now, madam,” said Simon Pure, as, with his 
one arm embracing his sister, he raised his head 
;from kissing her the while she clung lovingly to 
him, “ now, madam, I trust you are perfectly 
satisfied.” 

This remark was, in Mrs. Clapperclaw’s eyes, the 
crowning-point to the pyramid of insult that he had 
heaped upon her. It was the one drop that made 
the cup of her wrath run over. “ Satisfied ! ” she 
cried; “ satisfied ! ! what sort of satisfaction do you 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


195 


suppose it to be to the head of a moral academy like 
this, to see her governess, within the space of five 
minutes, kissing and clasping two Captain Smiths, 
and calling them both brothers I Oh ! my sympa- 
thies ! ” and the offended lady clasped her black-kid 
ventilators upon her agonised bosom. 

“ But this,’’ said Fanny, looking into her brother’s 
face, and imagining that Sir Charles had explained 
the part he had acted in his highly original little 
drama of deception, u but this is my brother, Mrs. 
Clapperclaw ; he has just returned from India.” 

The Great Moral Engine could do nothing more 
than gasp at this additional mark of effrontery and 
falsehood. 

Sir Charles saw that he had carried on the joke to 
the bounds of prudence (he did not stay to inquire 
if he had overpassed them), and that it was now time 
to confess, and to throw off his disguise. “ I must 
explain these apparent contradictions. Though, 
Mrs. Clapperclaw, I hope to claim a nearer and a 
dearer title, yet, I confess that I have been deceiving 
you, and, that I am not Miss .Smith’s brother ! ” 

A real locomotive engine could scarcely have 
given a louder scream than did the Great Moral 
Engine, when she heard this announcement. 


196 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


il Monster ! wretch ! ! man ! ! ! ” she cried, as 
though in that last word she ascended to the very pin- 
acle of expletive, u this to my face ! and kissing her, 
too, before my very eyes ! Oh, the indelicate wretch ! 
Help, help ! I see it all now. You want to run off 
with this governess of mine to Gretna Green, and 
ruin my school. Oh, my misplaced sympathies ! ” 
and carried away by the excitement of the moment 
the stiff and stately Clapperclaw actually hurried 
out of the room. 

u Surely I am in the land of riddles ! ” said the be- 
wildered Captain Smith. “ Pray give me some ex- 
planation, Fanny, that will enlighten me a little ; for, 
really, I am in doubt about everything and every- 
body — except you ; and almost question my own 
identity.” 

“ Certainly, dear brother,” replied his sister; 
“ though I think there is an old friend of yours pre- 
sent, who can explain this to you better than I can 
do. Allow me to introduce to you Sir Charles 
Chatterton.” 

The young men advanced, and cordially shook 
hands. 

“ Sir Charles Chatterton ! ” said Captain Smith, 
very much astonished at the singularity of the meet- 
ing, and not less so at the parts they had played 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


197 


in it. “ What ! the son of our kind benefactor, Sir 
Christopher ? ” 

u The same,” replied Sir Charles ; “ the pupil of 
your father, and your old playfellow, Harry ; though 
soon, I trust, to claim a dearer relationship.” 

And then he hastily recounted as much of that 
narrative with which the reader is already acquainted 
as was necessary for Captain Smith’s comprehension 
of the case. That gallant officer pronounced the 
whole thing to be one of the finest jokes in the 
world, and laughed heartily at his own share in the 
mystification. 

While they were thus looking upon their past ad- 
ventures with a merry face, the Great Moral Engine 
again steamed into the room, in a highly-excited 
condition, followed by Dolly Dot and Fido, whose 
fatty, placid temperament, had enabled him to over- 
get his late degradation, and to recover his usual 
equanimity. 

“ Here, Dolly, Fido ! help, help 1 ” cried Mrs. 
Clapperclaw ; “ here’s a runaway marriage under my 
very nose ! call the police, and get a warrant ! and 
fetch the yeomanry cavalry, too, if they’re neces- 
sary. Oh ! get me a chair first ! I’m going to 
faint ! it’s too great a shock for my large sympathies ! 


198 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Oh, oh ! ” and the Great Moral Engine was assisted 
by her faithful domestics to a chair, where she sat 
and screamed like any other engine. 

Fido, why don’t you run and fetch some water ? ” 
said Dolly ; “but you are so slow over everything. 
You ain’t never excited by faints, or screams, or 
nothing.” 

“ No,” replied Eido ; “ I’m a man of the world, I 
am, and they don’t go for more than they’re worth 
with me. But I’ll soon bring her round; here’s 
some water ’andy for the purpose.” And he seized 
upon a glass of discolored water that was upon a 
side table. 

Not that ! not that ! ” cried Fanny, “ it’s water 
I’ve used for painting.” 

“ And I’ll use it for fainting,” said Fido. “It’s 
all the better, miss ; it’ll put some color in her face.” 
And, without more ado, and before Fanny could 
prevent him, the phlegmatic Fido calmly and delib- 
erately saturated Mrs. Clapperclaw’s kippered-sal- 
mon face and corkscrew ringlets with the discolored 
water. 

“ Oh, you monster ! ” cried the dripping lady ; “I 
give you warning to leave this house immediately. 
Help, Dolly ! ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


199 


‘ Oh Eido ! ” said Dolly, as she dried Mrs. Clap- 
perclaw’s face with her apron; “ you’ve totally 
spoiled the missis’s cap with that nasty dirty water. 
Is’s quite wetted all the ribbins ; and they was 
watered ribbins afore.” The fat youth thought it 
prudent to leave the room. 

“ Fetch the police, Dolly,” gasped the Great Mor- 
al Engine. li I’ll stop this runaway marriage.” 

u Mrs. Clapperclaw,” said Sir Charles, coming for- 
ward, “ I most humbly entreat your forgiveness ; 
Eido’s zeal for your recovery has overcome his dis- 
cretion. But if Mrs. Clapperclaw will so far honor 
Sir Charles Chatterton ” (he said this with marked 
emphasis and a polite bow) “as to accept of a new 
lace cap — ” 

But the worthy head of Minerva House could not 
pause to hear more. “ Sir Charles who ? ” she cried, 
in great astonishment. “ Who ? what name did you 
say, sir? ” 

11 Sir Charles Chatterton, of Chatterton Manor,” 
he replied, taking a card from his pocket and hand- 
ing it to her ; “ the nephew of your friend ” (he laid 
great stress on this word), “ your friend , Lady Lin- 
ton, and your most obedient servant.” 

Mrs. Clapperclaw began to plume her draggled 


200 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


hackles, and to recover her equanimity, as she 
thought, with a flutter of pride, “ A baronet, and 
the nephew of my friend — my friend , Lady Linton • 
Oh, that completely alters the case. Here, Dolly ! 
come back directly. Stupid girl ! where were you 
going?” 

“ I were a going to fetch the pelisse, mem,” an- 
swered the maiden, referring to the limited constabu- 
lary force of Somerford, and, like a faithful domestic, 
intent upon the proper execution of orders from 
head-quarters. 

“ Stupid girl ! I was only joking ! You can leave 
the room, but not for the police,” said the Great 
Moral Engine, letting off the remnant of her dis- 
pleasure. 11 Ah, Sir Charles ! ” she resumed, turn- 
ing to the baronet with her most conciliatory manner 
and smile, and a playful movement of the black-kid 
ventilators ; “ Ah, Sir Charles ! you see that I am 
indeed a woman of large sympathies, and cannot 
find it in my heart to entertain feelings of animosity 
where the sympathies of my fellow-creatures are 
concerned. But, Sir Charles, as Miss Smith is my 
governess, and as the spotless fame of this boarding- 
school would be called in question if this clandestine 
interview should reach the ears of the vulgar — ” 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


201 


11 Dismiss your fears, Mrs. Clapperclaw,” inter- 
rupted Sir Charles ; “ this young lady was, at first, 
as much deceived as you were. The breath of scan- 
dal can neither touch her nor you : and if I should 
be blamed for the part I have acted, I should reply, 
that it made me better known to one whose young 
affections were, years sinc§, given to me, and. whose 
deeper love, I trust, through years of wedded bliss, 
will never cause me to regret the foolish stratagems 
which have terminated so unexpectedly and hap- 
pily.” 

“ And so, Miss Smith,” said Mrs Clapperclaw, 
benevolently, “ you have found a husband as well as 
a brother ; for, of course, you have accepted Sir 
Charles Chatterton’s brilliant offer ? ” 

“ I have not said — that is I think,” was the blush- 
ing young lady’s reply ; “ I owe so much to Sir 
Charles ; and besides, as an old friend, I ought to 
be grateful to him, and — ” 

“ Ah ! I see, Miss Smith/’ said the head of Mi- 
nerva House, with a knowing twinkle through her 
owl-like spectacles ; “ I see ! When a young lady 
talks of gratitude to a gentleman who has proposed 
to her, we all know what it means. Why, of 
course, you return sympathy for sympathy. Of 
course, you love him ; your blushes betray you.” 


202 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


Fanny had turned to her brother, and was clinging 
to him in a very pretty confusion. “ You are right, 
Mrs. Clapperclaw,” said he ; “ she does love Sir 
Charles. She has confided in me, and all has been 
explained. As her legal guardian and sole relative, 
I here sanction the choice of her heart, and gladly 
entrust-her happiness to the care of my old friend.” 
And he placed his sister’s hand in that of Sir Charles, 
who bent over it and tenderly kisssed it. 

Mrs. Clapperclaw ’s sympathetic heart was quite 
touched by this scene ; and with one of her black 
kid ventilators pressed upon her kippered-salmon 
features, she raised the other, as one in the act of 
benediction, and murmured, 11 Bless you ! bless you ! 99 
Fanny went to her and embraced her. 

Sir Charles was full of arrangements and propo- 
sitions, and exalted to the seventh heaven of happi- 
ness. Which day in the next week would be the 
most suitable for the wedding ? that was the ques- 
tion. What ! that was much too soon — couldn’t 
get ready by then — stuff and nonsense — etcaetera, 
etcaetera. Who does not know the unreasonable 
anxieties of a lover who is mad to place his happi- 
ness beyond the reach of a doubt ? 

However, before he left Minerva House, this was 
agreed to ; that in a few days Fanny should leave 


\ 



A Picturesque Position. — ( See page 211.) 





NEARER AND DEARER. 


203 


there for Somerford Hall, where, if it was agreeable 
to Lady Linton (and there did not seem much 
doubt on that, point), she should remain until her 
marriage. Captain Smith was also to spend as 
much of his time there as he could spare, and 
Chatterton Manor was to be got ready with all 
speed. 

All this Miss Fanny agreed to, but on one con- 
dition — that six months should elapse before the 
marriage. In vain did Sir Charles implore her to 
forego this resolve, for she was firm and not to be 
moved by entreaty or endearment. She would not 
have him to marry in haste, lest he should repent at 
leisure; and the trial-time of six months would 
sufficiently test the soundness of his affection, and 
give him full time to look into his heart and see 
whether his love proceeded from a deep, true feel- 
ing, or only from powerful fancy. 

So, Sir Charles was obliged to agree to this, and, 
taking a tender adieu of Fanny, he left Minerva 
House — with what different feelings to those with 
which he had entered in ! His silly wager had been 
the turning-point of his career; and the two last 
hours had taught him the salutary lesson, that there 
was still a something in life worth living for ; and 
that, in place of that course of doing nothing 


204 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


which he had been so wearisomely pursuing, there 
lay before him that far better course of duty and 
purpose, where he could run his race, and fight his 
fight, and strive for his crown of reward, with a 
dear one beside him to strengthen him in all his 
good resolves, to nerve him with the might of love, 
to support him in times of weakness, to cheer him 
with tenderest sympathy, and even to lay down her 
very life for him, if the forfeit of her existence could 
purchase his. 

How the light of love threw a glamor over 
everything, and even invested with unwonted grace 
those parallelogram grass-plats and back board 
poplars between which Sir Charles walked, as he 
passed through the iron gate, and under the adver- 
tising rainbow, and turned his back upon that stiff 
and gaunt buckram-and-backboard edifice, the 
grim casket that contained his precious jewel ! 
How two short hours had altered everything ! 

“ A crowd of hopes, 

That sought to sow themselves like winged seeds 
Born out of everything he heard and saw. 

Flutter’d about his senses and his soul ; v 

And vague desires, like fitful blasts of balm 
To one that travels quickly, made the air 
Of life delicious, and all kinds of thought 
That verged upon them, sweeter than the dream 
Dream’d by a happy man, when the dark east. 

Unseen, is brightening to his bridal morn.” 


«&apitr |0|| 


“ Thou shalt have her. Was’t not to this end 
That thou begann’st to twist so fine a story ? 

Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, 

That know love’s grief by his complexion ! 

But, lest my liking might too sudden seem, 

I would have salved it with a longer treatise, 

Don Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the 
flood ? The fairest grant is the necessity.” 

Much Ado about Nothing, Act I. Sc. 1. 

Falstaff. “ Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel ? Why, now 
let me die, for I have lived long enough: this is the period of my 
ambition. 0 this blessed hour ! ” 

Merry Wives of Windsor , Act III. Sc. 3. 





/ 



# • w 

m 









/ 


CHAPTER XVII. 

NEARER AND DEARER. 

OU may be sure, that when Sir 
Charles Chatterton had returned to 
Somerford Hall, and had been ac- 
costed by the Hon. Frederick Ar- 
lington, with, “ Well, old fellow, 
what luck ? ” and had replied thereto “ I’ll trouble 
you for those two ponies! ” and had produced, as a 
silent witness to the winning of his wager, that tress 
of hair which Miss Fanny Smith had snipped off 
for him — you may be sure that Mr. Arlington’s 
surprise came forth as readily as his money. Nor 
was it lessened when Sir Charles narrated the several 
particulars of the interview, which to save the 
trouble of twice going over the same ground, he did 
in the presence of Lady Linton. 

The first surprise over, his aunt warmly con- 
gratulated him, pronouncing Miss Fanny Smith to 
be a treasure that any man might be proud to 
win — which Sir Charles of course accepted as a 
compliment to his good taste, no less than as a 



208 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


gratifying proof that this good taste was also shared 
in by his aunt. 

“ I am rejoiced, my dear Charles,” said she, “ that 
you have made so prudent a choice : not that I 
had any fear you would make an imprudent one, 
for I know that you were too sound, both in head 
and heart, to commit yourself to any irretrievably 
foolish action.” 

Sir Charles lifts his eyebrows, smooths his 
moustache, and makes his aunt a polite bow. 

“ But still,” she continued, “ it is somewhat of a 
relief, as well as a great gratification, to be assured 
of what one has so greatly desired, and to know 
that you are really going to settle down to the 
duties, as well as to the pleasures of your station, 
instead of leading the wandering, aimless, life that 
you know, you naughty boy, you have been leading 
for so long, notwithstanding all my scoldings and 
those three Miss Fixers to whom I introduced you.” 

“ I would as soon have married Congreve’s witch,” 
said Sir Charles; “ and lived upon 'selling contrary 
winds, and wrecked vessels. I preferred the scold- 
ings to the young ladies.” 

But rejected both,” said his aunt. “ However, 
your present conduct atones for all your past mis- 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


209 


deeds. She won my heart from the first; and, 
motherless as she was, I have endeavoured to make 
up for her loss in every way that lay in my power. 
Thus, I have seen much of her, and I know her in- 
timately : a brighter, purer, and nobler specimen of 
an English maiden there could not be. You have 
done well, my dear Charles, in choosing her for 
your wife. And, as to this house being (for a time) 
her home, why, I had already proposed that to her, 
thinking my German governess would not be able to 
return ; and, to tell you the truth, I had constructed, 
in my own simple mind, a very pretty little plot, in 
which you and she were to be the chief actors, and 
in which you were to be introduced to her in this 
house, and forthwith to fall in love with her.” 

“ As an acted charade, or a drama of real life ? ” 

“ Oh, the latter, of course. She had told me her 
girlish history and all those doings of her young 
days, concealing, however, that little episode that 
terminated in the present of the cornelian heart; 
and my plot was, to introduce you suddenly to her 
without any previous warning or preparation, and 
turn you into her lover by a brilliant coup de theatre .” 

“ And, did she know of this pleasant little ar- 
rangement ? 


210 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Of course not, you goose ! She was not born tc 
be an actress of society ; she is the unspoilt child of 
nature. And, why should I have interfered with 
my plot, by telling her of your arrival ? No ! I pre- 
ferred my own way of bringing about the wished- 
for denouement . But it seems that you have fore- 
stalled me ; and have preferred to fall in love with 
Mrs. Clapperclaw’s governess in place of mine. 
Well, perhaps it is best that it is so. If my little 
plot had brought you together, with a 4 Now, young 
people, you are expected to fall in love with each 
other without more ado,’ very likely you would have 
hated each other from that moment.” 

“ Not at all improbable.” 

u So, perhaps it is for the best: all’s well that 
ends well. And, of course, here is Fanny’s home, 
until you can take her to your own.” 

Captain Smith dined with them that evening, 
and Sir Charles begged him to endeavor to prevail 
upon his sister to remove from Minerva House on 
the morrow. This, however, Miss Fanny declined 
to do. It was but a fortnight to the holidays, and 
she was unwilling to shirk that short performance of 
her duties, and to incommode Mrs. Clapperclaw by 
a precipitous departure from the scene of her labors : 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


211 


So, at Minerva House she determined to remain, 
until the last pupil had departed from that establish- 
ment to commence the Christmas holidays. 

Sir Charles had enough to occupy him pleasantly 
between those visits that he was suffered to pay at 
the Great Moral Engine’s academy; for the snow 
had disappeared, and hunting had succeeded to 
billiards. Besides which, there was Captain — or 
rather Harry — Smith, to see after ; and a flying 
journey with him to Chatterton Manor (to talk to 
the steward about the alterations), and to Lehdon, 
to purchase a present or two for Miss Fanny. So 
that the fortnight slipped away rapidly, and the 
hours chased each other with flying feet : and, one 
afternoon, Sir Charles found himself in the buckram- 
and-backboard reception-room of Minerva House, 
with Fanny by his side ; and they were standing 
(in one of those picturesque positions in which lovers 
like to stand), between the bilious draperies of one 
of the windows, and were gazing through the stiff 
wire-blind at the departure of the last pupil — that 
bi-tailed phenomenon for whom Fido had conceived 
such an ardent, but hopeless attachment. 

The fat youth had looked his last upon her, and 
had shut- to the carriage-door with a snap that 


212 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


seemed to say, “ Thus I dash thy bright vision from 
my heart ! ” and was returning up the walk with 
Dolly. 

“ I intend to do something for that highly-inter- 
esting couple,” said Sir Charles to Fanny, “ if they 
will let me be their friend. My aunt’s carriage 
will be here shortly, to take you up to the Hall, 
where, dearest, you must stay, until that happy day 
shall have come, when I, Charles, take thee, Fanny, 
to be my wedded wife, to love and to cherish till 
death us do part. ” 

Was it that the ears of Fido and Dolly were so 
excessively acute, that as they were passing the door 
they naturally caught these last words ? or could 
they have momentarily played the parts of eaves- 
droppers ? However, they heard those last words, 
and they were greatly moved by them-. 

“ To love and to cherish,” murmured Fido, in a 
fat abstraction, when they had reached the servants 
hall, “ to love and to cherish, till death us two 
part.” 

“ And thereto I plight thee my broth ! ” cried the 
mis-quoting Dolly. “ Oh, Fido ! them’s beautiful 
words. They fairly makes one’s mouth water. ” 

“ Well, they ain’t bad ! ” said Fido, with the air of 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


213 


a connoisseur ; “ but my fav’rite bit’s where the 
female bride says she’ll honour and obey the gent as 
is to be her husband. That’s a Savoury bit, that is ! 
it’s a numble testimony to the rights of we lords of 
the creation. Dolly, I stand before you as one 
of them lords of the creation, and as soon as 
w T e’ve saved enough to go into the green-grocery 
line, then I'll convert you into Mrs. Fido, and you 
shall honor and obey me instead of that crummy 
baker. ” 

“ That I will, Fido,” cried the delighted little Dol- 
ly ; “ and won’t he go and give out the wrong loaves 
for grief, when I excommunicate the news to him ! ” 
and she laughed one of her merry laughs. “ And 
now, Fido,” she said, “ you must keep to your prom- 
ise. You musn’t go a-fallin head and ears in love with 
any more of the parlour-boarders ; more especially 
with the little ’uns as can’t help themselves. ” 

“ Them weakness’s is past I ’’ replied Fido ; “ I’ll 
stick to my promise. Harabellar was the last 
of my brilliant series of conquests among the juvenile 
hairystocracy. They was pleasant while they lasted; 
but, the spasms and other emotions of affection as 
they produced, was uncommon destructive to a 
genteel figure, and a tight livery. Now, I shall 
turn a deaf ear to all the himportunities of love. ” 


214 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


“ Not of mine, surely? ” 

“ Oh no, Dolly ; not of your’n ; but such as re- 
lates to the parlor-boarders: I’ll be a deaf adder 
to all them little charmers, and eat my wittles in 
peace. Dolly, I’m a page as has turned over a new 
leaf. Love, honour, and obey me ! ” And this fat 
knight of the kitchen gazed upon his fellow -servant, 
much in the same way that that “ good portly man, 
i’faith, and a corpulent/’ looked dotingly upon 
Mistress Ford. 

“ Oh ! them are beautiful words, Fido,” said the 
sympathetic Dolly. “ I often reads ’em over on a 
Sunday afternoon, during the sermon — though I 
don’t go there quite as often as a Roman Catalogue 
— but I ve got ’em all by heart against I want ’em, 
when the parson’s asked three times, if there’s any 
just claws and impenitent why Ferdinand Fido, 
bachelor, and Dorothea Dot, spinster, shouldn’t be 
ignited together in holy matrimony. Oh, Fido ! I 
wonder when that time will come? ” 

“Very soon, Dolly, if you wish.” 

They turned round, and saw Sir Charles Chat- 
terton and Fanny Smith standing’ arm-in-arm in 
the door- way : Sir Charles was the speaker, and he 
addressed himself to Dolly. “ You have shown 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


215 


many kindnesses,” he said, “ to this young lady 
who is going to be my wife, at times when they 
have been most deeply felt. She wishes, in return, 
to do a kindness to - you; and, you must oblige us 
both by accepting a present, which I shall settle 
on you as a small annuity ; and then, if you like, 
you will be able to leave service, take Eido with 
you, and — follow my example.” 

Poor Dolly was almost overcome. “ Oh, sir ? ” she 
cried, “ I said you was a prince in disguise, and now 
I’m sure of it. And it’s my best duty as I wishes 
to you and your good lady, sir, and may you have a 
many of ’em.” Whether she referred to wishes, or 
wives, or children, seemed uncertain ; but there was 
no question about her sincerity, and Sir Charles and 
Fanny bade her good- bye, and left her dissolved in 
hysterical tears of joy. 

“ Oh, Fido ! ” she cried, when she had somewhat 
recovered herself, ‘ 4 Oh, Fido ! I’m a-going to leave 
service ! Fido, I’ve got an obscurity settled upon 
me ; Fido, I shall open a green-grocery ; Fido, I 
intend to enter upon the state of fetlock, and lead 
you to the menial halter.” 

“ Lead on, Dorothea ! ” said the fat youth ; “ I’m 
resigned to my fate. Your wictim will go as heasy 
as a lamb.” 



Cljapto I»HI. 

“A slavery beyond enduring 
But that ’tis of our own procuring; 
As spiders never seek the fly. 

But leave' him of himself t’ apply; 

So men are by themselves betray’d 
To quit the freedom they enjoy’d. 
And run their necks into a noose. 
They’d break ’em after to get loose,” 


Hudibras. 







* 


•v 









« 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


CONCLUSION. 


and was no longer the listless blaze man who ap- 
peared to think that exertion was a weariness, and 
that ever ything in life was equally wholly unsatisfac- 
tory and unamusing. At last, he had found “ that 
herb called heartsease.” He had extricated himself 
from the Slough of Despond, and had looked his 
last upon Doubting Castle. He was no longer toss- 
ed about by trifles, and driven rudderless upon the 
sea of life ; for Love had now seized upon the helm, 
and had steered him into the sweet waters of a right 



NE may easily 
imagine how plea- 
santly the Christ- 
mas holidays were 
at Somerford 
Sir Charles Chat- 
terton seemed to have 
entered upon a new ex- 
istence. He had regain- 
ed all his wonted energy, 


course. 


220 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


And Fanny, she who had been the means of 
bringing about this healthy change — she, too, seemed 
to have entered upon a new life. The removal 
from Minerva House to Somerford Hall was a 
change indeed. The refined elegance and cheerful 
comfort of the latter was a refreshing contrast to 
the gaunt and grim stiffness of the former ; and the 
cessation from the wearying monotony of school 
duties produced the best effect both upon her 
health and spirits. She had ever borne her troubles 
with a light and patient heart ; but, now that they 
were taken from her, and exchanged for such hap- 
piness as she had never yet known — now that her 
path through life was strewn with roses instead of 
the “briars of this working-day world,” she realised 
to their full, 

“ The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy ” 

that proceeds from pure pleasure. Lady Linton’s 
affection for her was as that of a mother or an elder 
sister, and her tender regard brought inconceivable 
comfort to the poor orphan. 

Never had life seemed so sweet to Fanny, never . 
so delicious to Sir Charles. If sympathy is the soul 
of love — and that woman of large sympathies, the 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


221 


Great Moral Engine, would have told them that it 
was — then, surely, the very essence of affection was 
theirs. He had been enriched with 

“ the greatest gift — 

A woman’s heart, the heart of her he loved ; ” 

and she, 

“ She did not love him for his birth, 

Nor for his lands so broad and fair ; 

She loved him for his own true worth ; ” 

and thus, with their mutual love increasing from day 
to day, and growing up to perfect harmony, with 
their passion rising 

“ through circumstantial grades, 

Beyond all grades developed,” 

they passed those six months which Miss Fanny had 
insisted should elapse between the period of their 
engagement and that of their marriage. 

Very rapid indeed was the flight of time during 
that charmed interval ; and so Sir Charles dis- 
covered, notwithstanding his repeated complaints 
that it was an age until next June, and that there 
was no necessity for so cruelly protracting the. happy 
day. For there was a great deal to be seen to, and 
done, prior to that important occasion ; and, as it 
Was at any time a novelty for Sir Charles to be 
immersed in business engagements, the novelty, in 


222 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


the present instance, became a very pleasing one, 
when it was created by one happiness, and was 
productive of so many others, giving birth to a 
perfect brood of little joys, amid which Sir Charles 
strutted and chuckled with proud parental impor- 
tance. To run down from Somerford Hall to 
Chatterton Manor to met the London upholsterer, 
and to review the troops of workmen, and then to 
return to Fanny with a full account of all that was 
going on, was, to Sir Charles, a journey far more 
pleasing than had ever been his trips to Paris or his 
runs up the Rhine. 

Occasionally (chaperoned by Lady Linton) they 
both paid a visit to their future home, in order that 
Miss Fanny might give more particular directions, 
and exercise her taste in the selection of paint and 
paper, cornices and chintzes, hot-houses and hang- 
ings, furniture and flower-beds. At these times 
the now happy orphan would steal away to the 
quiet churchyard, where, beneath the shade of a 
venerable yew, her father and mother slept their 
last sleep ; and there, carefully tending the flowers 
that had been planted around their graves, she 
would hold a sweet communion with her thoughts, 
saddened only by the regret that her parents had 
not lived to see her present happiness. 


NEARER AND DEARER. 


223 


It was on her return to Somerford, after one of 
these pious visits, that Sir Charles said to her, “ I 
have some new designs to submit to your judgment.” 
And he laid before her a roll of plans and drawings. 
They were prepared by one of the most celebrated 
ecclesiastical architects of the day, and were designs 
for the complete restoration of Chatterton Church, 
— a work which Fanny’s father had ever had at 
heart, but had not lived even to commence. One 
of the drawings, which represented the beautiful in- 
terior of the chancel of the restored church, showed, 
underneath a stained glass window on the north 
side, a brass plate let into the stone work of the 
wall ; and on the plate was the following inscription 
in illuminated characters : — 

►JtCo tjre glorijr of (Bob, ;tnb in 
pious memorg of ber Jfatljer, 
tjje $jbb. $tcnrn Smith, fE.A. 
sometime |lcrtor of tljis gar- 
isjj, tjjis Churtlj hats entirely 
resforeb bn his ortlg baugljfet 
Jfrunees, % toife of Sir €. 
(Kjjatirrtau, $urt. l^orb of 
t§is Sfunor.^ 


224 NEARER AND DEARER. 

The date subjoined to this inscription, was a year 
after that of their approaching marriage. 

“ If you approve of this work, it shall be com- 
menced at once,” said Sir Charles. 

u It would be the monument he would love the 
most,” she murmured, as she threw herself into the 
arms of her betrothed, and there wept tears of holy 

j°y- 

^ 

The six months had passed. How could Time 
fly so quickly when he was laden with so much 
happiness ? 

At length, on one bright cloudless morning in 
June, there is a marriage in Somerford Church : and 
the fifty-six young ladies of Minerva House, who are 
posted in an eligible situation in the gallery, behold 
their revered friends and instructress, clad in un- 
wonted gorgeousness of attire, and pretenaturally 
stiff in a new plum-colored satin, standing up very 
stately and important, behind a beautiful bouquet 
of bridesmaids, with Lady Linton on her right hand, 
and another live Lady of title on her left. Suddenly, 
— just at that part of the service, where the clergy- 
man says, “ I therefore pronounce that they be man 
and wife together,” — the young ladies observe Mrs. 


NEARER AND DEARER 


225 


Clapperclaw cover up her kippered-salmon features 
with a grand lace handkerchief ; and it would seem, 
from the tremulousness of her bonnet and the 
agitation of her portly bosom, that the worthy lady 
was overcome by her sympathies, and was weeping 
from excess of happiness ; whereupon the majority 
of the Minervaites follow their Great Moral En- 
gine’s example, and a terrible flood of tears is 
pumped forth. 

But it does not extinguish Hymen’s torch ; and 
the handsome bride and bridegroom pass down the 
aisle, the cynosure of neighboring eyes, and rattle 
off under garlands and triumphal arches, pursued by 
cheers and train of carriages, to Somerford Hall; 
where, among the servants gathered to receive them 
at the door, are Mr. and Mrs. Fido ( nSe Dorothea 
Dot), who have postponed their retirement into 
private life and green-grocery, in order that they 
may show their attachment to Sir Charles and 
Lady Chatterton. 












' 

■ 



■ v - •• :•! . 

. ■ , : f '[• ■- - , 



■ ; ■ • ' - .I::-!,.;-, ' ' r*i . ; ! 

' 

‘ 






NEW BOOKS 

And New Editions Recently Issued by 

CARLETOH, PUBLISHER, 

MEW Y© 5 £S£. 

418 BROADWAY, CORNER OF LISPENARD STREET. 


N.B. — The Publisher, upon receipt of the price in advance, will send any 
of the following Books, by mail, postage free, to any part of the United States. 
This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the neighboring Book- 
sellers are not supplied with the desired work. State name and address in full 


Victor Hugo. 

LES MISERABLES.— The only unabridged English translation of 
“the grandest and best Novel ever written.” One large 
octavo vol., paper covers, $1.50, . or cloth $2.00 

LES MISERABLES.— A superior edition in five vols. — Fantine — 
Cosette — Marius — Denis — Valjean. 8vo., cloth, each, $1.00 
LES MISERABLES— In the Spanish language. Fine 8vo. edition, 
two vols., paper covers, $4.00 ; or cloth, bound, . $5.00 
the LIFE OF VICTOR HUGO.— By himself. “ As charming and 
interesting as a novel.” 8vo., cloth . . . $1.75 

Tty tlie Autlaor of Rutledge.” 

RUTLEDGE.— A deeply interesting novel. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 
THE SUTHERLANDS.— do. . . do. $1.75 

FRANK WARRINGTON.— do. . . do. $1.75 

LOUIE’S LAST TERM AT ST. MARY’S.— . . do. $1.75 

A NEW NOVEL . — III press. 


Hand-Kook* of Good Society. 

THE HABITS OF good SOCIETY; with Thoughts, Hints, and 
Anecdotes, concerning nice points of taste, good manners, 
and the art of making oneself agreeable. Reprinted from 
the London Edition. The best and most entertaining work 
of the kind ever published. . . i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

the ART OF CONVERSATION.— With directions for self-culture. 
A sensible and instructive work, that ought to be in the 
hands of every one who wishes to be either an agreeable 
talker or listener. . . . i2mo. cloth, $1.50 


4 


LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 


Mrs. Mary J. Holmes’ Works. 


DARKNESS AND DAYLIGIIT.- 

-Just published. 

1 2mo. cl. 

$1.50 

'LENA RIVERS.— 

. A Novel. , 

do. 

$1.50 

TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.— 

. do. 

do. 

$1.50 

MARIAN GREY.— 

. do. 

do. 

$1.50 

MEADOW BROOK.— . 

. do. 

do. 

$1.50 

ENGLISH ORPHANS.— 

. do. 

do. 

$1.50 

DORA DEANE.— 

. do. 

do. 

81.50 

COUSIN MAUDE.— . 

. do. 

do. 

81.50 

HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.— do. 

do. 

81.50 


Artemus Ward. 

HIS BOOK.— An irresistibly funny volume of writings by the 

immortal American humorist . . i2mo. cloth, $1.50 

Miss Mulocn. 


JOHN HALIFAX.— A novel. Withillust. i2mo., cloth, $1.75 
A LIFE FOB A LIFE.— . do. . do. $1.75 


Charlotte Bronte (Currer Bell). 


JANE eyee.— A novel. 
THE PEOFESSOE.— do. 
SHIELEY. — . do. 

VILLETTE.— . do. 


With illustration. 
. do. 1 

. do. 

. do. 


i2mo. cloth, $1.75 
do. $1 .75 

do. 81.75 

do. $1.75 


Edmund Kirke. 

among THE PINES.— A Southern sketch. i2mo. cloth, $1.25 
MY SOUTHEEN FRIENDS.— do. do. . $1.25 

DOWN IN TENNESSEE.— Just published. . do. $1.50 


Cutbbert Bede. 


YEEDANT GEEEN.— A rollicking, humorous novel of English 
student life; with 200 comic illustrations. i2mo. cloth, $1.50 
NEAEEE and DEAEEE.— A novel, illustrated. i2mo. clo. $1.50 


Ricliard B. Kimball. 

WAS he successful?— A novel. i2mo. cloth, 
UNDEECUEEENTS. — do. do. 

SAINT legee.— do. do. 

ROMANCE OF STUDENT LIFE.— do. do. 

IN THE TROPICS.-Edited by R. B. Kimball. do. 


$1.50 

$1.50 

$1.50 

81.50 

$1.50 


Epes Sargent. 

PECULIAR.— One of the most remarkable and successful novels 
published in this country. .. . i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

Miss Augusta J. Evans. 

BEULAH.— A novel of great power. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 


BY CARLE TOR, NEW YORK. 


5 


A. S. Roe’s Works. 


A LONG LOOK AHEAD.— 

A novel. 

i2mo. cloth. 

81.50 

TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED. 

— do. . 

. do. 

81.50 

TIME AND TIDE.— 

do. . 

• do. 

81.50 

I WE BEEN THINKING.— 

do. . 

. do. 

81.50 

THE STAR AND THE CLOUD.- 

- do. . 

. do. 

81.50 

TRUE TO THE LAST.— 

do. ' . 

. do. 

81.50 

HOW COULD HE HELP IT.— 

do. . 

. do. 

81.50 

LIKE AND UNLIKE.— 

do. . 

. do. 

81.50 

A new novel. — In Press. 


do. 

81.50 


Walter Barrett, Clerk. 

OLD MERCHANTS OF new TORE.— Being personal incidents, 
interesting sketches, bits of biography, and gossipy events 
in the life of nearly every leading merchant in New York 
City. Two series. . . i2mo. cloth, each, $1.75 

T. S. Arthur’s New Works. 

LIGHT ON SHADOWED PATHS.— A novel. 12mO. cloth, $1.50 
OUT IN THE WORLD.— • do. . do. $1.50 

NOTHING BUT MONET. — In PrCSS. do. . do. $1.50 


The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers. 

A COLLECTION of exquisitely satirical and humorous military 
criticisms. Two series. . i2mo. cloth, each, $1.50 
M. Michelet’s Works. 

LOVE (L’AMOUR).— From the French. i2mo. cloth, 81.50 

WOMAN (LA FEMME.)— do. . . do. $1.50 

WOMAN’S PHILOSOPHY OF WOMAN.— By Hericourt, do. 8 1.50 


Novels hy RufHni. 

DR. ANTONIO.— A love story of Italy. i2mo. cloth, 
LAVINIA; OR, THE ITALIAN ARTIST.— do. 

VINCENZO; OR, SUNKEN ROCKS.— 8 VO. cloth. 

Rev John Cumming, D.D., of London. 
THE GREAT tribulation— Two series. izmo. cloth, 

THE GREAT PREPARATION.— do. . do. 

THE GREAT CONSUMMATION.— do. . do. 

TEACH US TO PRAY.— do. 


81.75 

81.75 

81.75 

81.50 

81.50 

81.50 

81.50 


Drnest Renan. 

THE LIFE OF JESUS.— Translated by C. E. Wilbour from the 
celebrated French work. . . i2mo. cloth, 81 . 75 

RELIGIOUS HISTORY AND CRITICISM.— 8 VO. cloth, 82. 5 0 


6 


LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 


Charles Reade. 

THE cloister and THE hearth.— A magnificent new novel, b) 
the author of “ Hard Cash,” etc. . 8vo. cloth, $2.oc 

The Oper^. 

tales FROM the operas.— A collection of clever stories, based 
upon the plots of all the famous operas. i2mo. cl., $1.50 
J. C. JeafTreson. 

a BOOK ABOUT DOCTORS.— An exceedingly humorous and en- 
tertaining vo’ume of sketches, stories, and facts, about 
famous physicians and surgeons. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

Fred. S. t'ozzens. 

the SPARROWGRASS papers.— A capital humorous work, with 
illustrations by Darley. . . i2mo. cloth, $1.25 

F. D. Guerrazzi. 

BEATRICE CENCI.— A great historical novel. Translated from 
the Italian ; with a portrait of the Cenci, from Guido’s 
famous picture in Rome. . . i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

Private Mileis O’Reilly. 

His BOOK.-Rich with his songs, services, and speeches, and 
comically illustrated. . . . i2mo. cloth, $1.25 

The New York Central Park. 

A SUPERB GIFT BOOK.— The Central Park pleasantly described, 
and magnificently embellished with more than 50 exquisite 
photographs, of the principal views and objects of interest. 
A large quarto volume, sumptuously bound in Turkey 
morocco, . . . . ... . $25.00 

Joseph Rodman Drake. 

THE CULPRIT FAY.— The most charming faery poem in the 
English language. Beautifully printed. i2mo. cloth, 75 cts. 

Mother Goose for Grown Folks. 

HUMOROUS rhymes for grown people ; based upon the famous 
“ Mother Goose Melodies.” . . i2mo. cloth, $1.00 

Stephen Massett. 

DRIFTING ABOUT.— A comic illustrated book of the life and 
travels of “ Jeems Pipes.” . . i2mo. cloth, $1.25 

A New Sporting Work. 

TJIE GAME FISH OF the NORTH.-One of the best books on fish 
and fishing ever published. Entertaining as well as instruc- 
tive, and full of illustrations. . i2mo. cloth, $1.50 


BY CARLE TON, NEW YORK. 


7 


Balzac’s Novels. 

CESAR bikotteau.— From the French. 
THE ALCHEMIST.— .. do. 

EUGENIE GRANDET.— do. 

PETTY ANNOYANCES OF MARRIED LIFE.— 


1 2mo. cloth. 

$1-25 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.2- 

do. 

$1.2 


Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 

BABIE BELL, AND OTHER POEMS — Blue and gold binding, $1.00 
OUT OF His head.— A new romance. izmo. cloth, $1.00 

Richard IX. Stoddard. 

THE KING’S bell.— A new poem. . i2mo. cloth, 75 cts. 
THE MORGESONS.— A novel. By Mrs. R. H. Stoddard. $1.00 

Edmund C. Stcdman. 

ALICE OF MONMOUTH.— A new poem. i2mo. cloth, $1.00 
LYRICS AND IDYLS.— 


M. T. Walworth. 

lulu.— A new novel. 

HOTSPUR.— do. 

Author of “ Olie.” 

NEPENTHE.— A new novel. 

TOGETHER.— do. 


A NEW ROMANCE.— 
A NEW NOVEL.— 


Quest. 

• • 

Victoire. 


do. 75 cts. 

i2mo. cloth, $1.50 
do. $1.50 

l2mo. cloth, $1.50 
, do. 

. i2mo. cloth, $1.50 

. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

Red-Tape 

AND pigeon-hole generals, as seen by a citizen-soldier in the 
Army of the Potomac. . . i2mo. cloth, $1.25 

Author “ Green Mountain Boys.” 

CENTEOLA.— A new work, . i2ino. cloth, $i- 5 C 

C. French Richards. 

JOHN GUILDERSTRING’S SIN.— A liove I 2mO. cloth, $1.50 

J. R. Beckwitli. 

the wiNTnROPS.— A novel, i2mo. cloth, $1.75 

Jas. H. Ilackett. 

NOTES AND COMMENTS ON SHAKSPEARE.— 1 2mO. cloth, $1.50 


S LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CARL ETON, NEW YORK. 


Miscellaneous Works. 

ALEXANDER YON HUMBOLDT.— Life and travels. 1 
LIFE OF HUGH miller, the Geologist. . _ . 

ADAM GUROW SKI.— Diary for 1863. 

DOESTICKS.— The Elephant Club, illustrated. . 
husband and WIFE, or human development. 
ROCKFORD.— A novel by Mrs. L. D. Umsted. 

THE PRISONER OF state.— By D. A. Mahony. 

THE partisan leader.— By Beverly Tucker. . 

SPREES and SPLASHES.— By Henry Morford. . 
AROUND THE PYRAMIDS.— By Gen. Aaron Ward. 
CHINA AND THE CHINESE.— By W. L. G. Smith. 
WANDERINGS OF A BEAUTY.— Mrs. Edwin James. 

THE u. S. TAX LAW.—' “ Government Edition.” 
TREATISE ON DEAFNESS.— By Dr. E. B. Lighthill. 

LYRICS OF A DAY— or newspaper poetry. 
garret YAN HORN.— A novel by J. S. Sauzade. 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL FOR THE SOLDIER- 
FORT LAFAYETTE.— A novel by Benjamin Wood. 
the yaciitman’S primer.— By T. R. Warren. 

GEN. NATHANIEL LYON.— Life and Writings. . 

PHILIP THAXTER— A novel. 
literary ESSAYS.— By George Brimley. . 

HAYING TIME TO HOPPING.— A novel. . 

THE VAGABOND.— Essays by Adam Badeau. 

EDGAR POE and his CRITICS.— By Mrs. Whitman, do. 
tactics; or, Cupid in Shoulder-Straps. 

JOHN DOE AND RICHARD ROE.— A novel. 

LOLA montez.— H er life and lectures. 

DEBT AND GRACE.— By Rev. C. F. Hudson. . 
husband vs. wife.— A comic illustrated poem. 
TRANSITION.— Edited by Rev. H. S. Carpenter. 
roumania.— By Dr. Jas. O. Noyes, illustrated. 

YERNON GROVE.— A novel 

ANSWER to HUGH miller.— By T. A. Davies. 
COSMOGONY.— By Thomas A. Davies. 

NATIONAL HYMNS.— By Richard Grant White. 
TWENTY years Around the World. J. Guy Vas; 

SPIRIT OF HEBREW POETRY— By Isaac Taylor. 


do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$2.00 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

75 cts. 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

50 cts. 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

50 cts. 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

75 cts. 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

50 cts. 

do. 

$1.00 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.25 

do. 

$1.25 

d. cl.. 

$1.50 

do. 

$1.50 

do. 

$3.50 

do. 

$2.50 



















\ 






































































































» 









































r 





















































* 















































♦ 









C 



library of congress 


000222507 ^b 


> -i t \ * * \ \\\ h* * > un >' * % % % * > % % 

v . l\ % % i %\ n w n \ nnnnuH 
^VmmunHrnUHnmu* 
\ \ \ S % SSW \ % % % % % V V % V % \ % \ \ *> \ * \ * 

uufHHHvh > % \ i * mmiu w 
% \ \ % % % % %\\\ h \ \ >% \ v uunu \ \ % 

% \\sv>\\% % > % i i $ \ % % % s \sss > * i \ > 
mmmuuiHHimSmm 
V»UiWmHvUWUmM*m 


/ / * , 5 s £/ ( M*ni99»f$1i9§ 9 J J / , 
1 1 / > '(isi'ifj i iip)t i i # / # <WI 

> i j i 4 f t 

/ / / ,? | / '}}&$)! p i } }iii i 4 > / / / # # 

> > >»>> / iiaiifiy?) ) > # / / / i / # 
y» i tit tity* tj.it i i * * * t * / 

y? fty* yyy?t ? ? ? it H $ * ? i t* * * f 
yyurnnniuntiifhm^ 
t yyyyyy'i y$ i yyyyyf y$ ? i'** ? *} ?. 

yp If } fllPt tit pi fit 'iitfttri ) 

ii 't ? / / fftiit t* 4 p s Yi it i i 9 i/ f 


f/iii 


